No Rest for the Wicked
by De Fideli
Summary: Cato Weston has everyone in the Hamptons interested-except for Clove Kensington. AU.
1. Chapter 1

The atmosphere was chaotic in the Kensington residence, dozens of workers scurrying to get to their assigned spots. This was the day, the day of the wedding between retired professional football player Mark Kensington and retired model Stella Joyce. This was the event of the year for the residents of Southampton—particularly those of Panem Preparatory School. Every student had been hoping, praying for invitations to the heralded happening, trying to get on the good graces of the supermodel's spitting image daughter, Glimmer Joyce. Of course, the actual invites were few and far between, only the most popular of Panem Prep being handed the golden ticket.

One Clove Kensington didn't need such an invitation, grimacing as she looked at the short, blush pink sweetheart neckline dress laying on her bed. "Oh God," she muttered, rolling her eyes.

"Clove, it's not _that_ bad, it just isn't something you would wear," her best friend Jacqueline Foxworthy tried to justify, as she stood in her own yellow shift dress.

"That's because Glimmer was in charge of the dresses, Fox," the brunette retorted, a sour taste in her mouth at the talk of her very-soon-to-be stepsister.

"On the bright side, she didn't bedazzle it," Jacqueline pointed out, jokingly. "Besides, if we had it your way, all of the bridesmaids would be wearing athletic shorts and a t-shirt." The Foxworthys, longtime neighbors of the Kensingtons, had been close family friends as well. It was only fitting that Clove and Jacqueline, whom she affectionately called Fox, were more or less joined at the hip. "Now go put it on so I can do your hair, I'm not letting it get touched by Glimmer's army." The two shared a laugh, though soon after as Clove slipped into the nude pumps she'd been given, the pout returned to her face.

She wasn't looking forward to this day at all.

* * *

Cato Weston had only moved to Southampton over the summer, hailing from the renowned Upper East Side of Manhattan. After a near Driving Under the Influence charge fought off by his State's Attorney father, his parents had made the choice to move him to a much quieter environment, without all of the distractions that the New York City nightlife had graciously provided. He hadn't been entirely too happy about the arrangement, but nevertheless, Cato was inclined to wreak the most havoc out of it.

Early surveillance of the crowd had him run into the famous blonde beauty, Glimmer Joyce, and the pursuit had been two way. In a week, he had himself cordially invited to the Kensington-Joyce wedding by none other than Glimmer herself.

He adjusted the powder blue tie to his seersucker suit, ready to make his own debut into Southampton society. He was Cato Weston. He deserved a spot in the elite.

Pulling up into the Kensington property, he gazed at the surrounding green. He was slightly impressed—he didn't know who the Kensington family was, but the lawn was almost enough to singlehandedly be an eighteen hole golf course. Handing the keys to the valet, he stepped out of the car and made his way to the garden, where the majority of the guests were.

"Cato!" a familiar, high-pitched voice called to him, and he turned around to see Glimmer in a short, pink dress, rhinestones encrusting the neckline drawing attention to her chest. "You made it!"

"Of course," he said coolly, giving her a one armed hug. She took his hand, leading him to a group of boys standing beside another row of seats.

"Cato Weston, these are the three most handsome men in Southampton, other than you of course," she winked flirtatiously, and the three turned around. "Marvel Stone's the heir to a diamond business." The boy had a similar build to Cato, though he was considerably more slender. He flashed a smile, sticking out his hand and Cato returned the gesture with a firm handshake. Even Cato couldn't deny the Marvel exuded with charisma, even without saying a word. Glimmer continued, "Gale Hawthorne, of the Hawthorne private security firm." Gale had much more in common with Cato, the muscle and the strong build, along with the Adonis-like jawline striking at instant glance as he offered the same handshake as Marvel. "And of course, this is Peeta Mellark," Glimmer concluded, gesturing at the much shorter boy.

"What do your parents do, Mellark?" Cato inquired, sticking out his hand for one final time.

"Wheat product manufacturing," Peeta grinned, apparently finding humor in the profession. Cato had to admit, he did too after realizing the irony in the boy's name, and he couldn't help but let out a chuckle.

"I'll leave you boys alone, it's almost time," Glimmer said excitedly, giving Cato a kiss on the cheek as a small goodbye.

Gale raised an eyebrow. "She seems to like you," he said curtly.

Cato shrugged, and flashed a mischievous grin. "Who doesn't?" he replied, his cocky demeanor exposing itself greatly. "You all came here alone?"

Marvel let out a laugh, as if to ridicule the assumption. "No, waiting for our dates… and here they are," he said, nodding at three attractive girls coming towards them. "Cato Weston, this is Jacqueline Foxworthy, Madge Undersee and Katniss Everdeen." Cato made sure to execute the usual formalities and flashed a charming smile at them. He soon learned that Jacqueline belonged to the family of a real estate mogul, Madge was the mayor's daughter and Katniss's father owned Everdeen Mining. He wasn't particularly impressed, accustomed to the presence of wealthy people.

"Guys, let's sit down, it's about to start," Madge suggested and they all took a seat, arranging themselves in the order of Madge, Gale, Katniss, Peeta, Jacqueline, Marvel, and finally, Cato. The miniature orchestra began to play Canon in D Major as the wedding party walked in. The men were wearing tuxedos with blush pink vests and ties, and the women wore the same dress he'd seen Glimmer with earlier, only without the rhinestones. He looked for the blonde, but instead his eyes fell on another girl. Her hair was a deep, dark brown and pinned into a low bun, her cheekbones prominent and her face angular. Cato was almost surprised by how attentive he was towards the girl, but he snapped back into reality at the sound of someone's voice.

"Isn't Clove gorgeous? I did her hair!" he heard Jacqueline whisper loudly and excitedly to Marvel.

The other boy chuckled in amusement at Jacqueline's enthusiasm. "How she's even wearing that dress is a miracle," he mused, and Jacqueline nodded in agreement, giggling.

"Who's Clove?" he asked Marvel, raising an eyebrow.

"Clove's Mark Kensington's daughter," Marvel explained to Cato, leaning over but not making eye contact as the party continued to stroll down the aisle.

"This is probably the first time we've seen Clove in a dress since… well… I can't even remember," Jacqueline added, feeling the need to justify her excitement.

"Mark Kensington?" Cato asked, incredulously. "As in, the pro bowl quarterback Mark Kensington?"

"Dude. Whose wedding did you think you were attending?" Marvel said to an unattentive Cato, who looked at Clove once more, the brunette returning eye contact for a fleeting glance. He was about to look at the altar, wondering how he'd missed the famous quarterback, when Glimmer walked down the aisle giving him a secret, flirtatious wave. Once again, he was brought back to reality, only this time by Marvel's voice. "Why… you interested in Clove?"

He gave Glimmer an arrogant smirk in return as he answered Marvel. "Nah, man, I think I'm good right now."

Hell yes, he was interested.

**A/N: This is the first AU I've done, ever. So tell me if I'm absolutely terrible at it and should stop right now before I go write another chapter.**

**Or, leave me a nice review if you'd wish! They keep me writing happily.**


	2. Chapter 2

The reception festivities were in full swing as day turned into night at the Kensington residence. Chatter of how beautiful the service was executed spilt out of the lips of the guests, who were starting to fill up the dance floor.

Clove had watched her father and new stepmother take their first dance earlier, bittersweet about the ordeal. She missed her mother, truly, but the happiness in her father's eyes was something special that she couldn't deny. Still, she knew the days of weathering everything with her father and her father alone were over—she was reminded so as she glanced over at her giddy stepsister getting ready to take to the dance floor. She was caught up in her own thoughts while the music played, absentmindedly playing with the floral centerpiece before hearing her name called.

"Clove!" Jacqueline said from a table nearby, as she motioned for the girl to come over. At the thought of having to walk more in the heels, she grumbled, but nevertheless obeyed. Jacqueline was sitting with the few Panem Preparatory students who had been invited to the affair, all of whom Clove recognize.

"Check you out!" Katniss joked, and Peeta let out a wolf whistle in joking approval over Clove's rare formal appearance.

She responded with the roll of her eyes, muttering a quiet "shut up." She looked at the empty chair on the table, raising an eyebrow. "Who's missing?"

Madge let out a gasp. "Oh my goodness, Clove, you missed it. Look at that guy dancing with Glim," she demanded excitedly, and Clove turned around in a hesitant fashion to look at her stepsister. Her dance partner was a tall, muscular blond, and Clove remembered his face faintly from the wedding ceremony. Still, he was unfamiliar. As if Madge had been reading her mind, she interjected her thoughts and continued. "I talked to my daddy today, and he said he's Cato Weston, son of the state's attorney and the editor in chief of Cosmo. Cosmopolitan, Clove!"

"I bet he's got women figured out," Marvel joked, and the rest of the table echoed in laughter.

"Well, he certainly picked the cream of the crop," Clove commented, her words dripping with sarcasm.

"Ouch, no love for your new stepsister?" Marvel asked, an amused grin on his face. Though Jacqueline was hands down Clove's best friend, the handsome boy had always understood her for some strange reason. Their opposite personalities operated on the same wavelength, and somehow, no one made Clove laugh more than Marvel Stone.

"Not like she's enthusiastic about me either," Clove pointed out quickly, and it was true. Long before the wedding, Clove and Glimmer had never gotten along. The fact that they had nothing in common led to numerous arguments and verbal sparring between the two. Essentially, Clove thought Glimmer was a materialistic, shallow airhead and Glimmer thought Clove was a rude, short-tempered sad excuse for a lady. The group knew of the thick tension between the two, choosing not to take sides in the toxic affair aside from Jacqueline pledging her allegiance to Clove and Madge usually taking Glimmer's side.

"She always gets the gorgeous ones," Madge stated wistfully, as they stole glances at the dancing couple.

"Looks like a football player," Clove observed, and she looked at Gale. "6'3, maybe, outside linebacker?"

Gale looked at Cato, and shook his head. "Doesn't look quick enough. He might actually be a quarterback, judging by the size of his arms." Clove raised an eyebrow skeptically. Southampton hadn't had a good quarterback ever since she could remember, the high class society boys preferring to play lacrosse or polo.

"Are you guys sizing him up? Really?" Katniss rolled her eyes lightheartedly.

Gale shrugged. "Athlete thing." He himself, at six feet and five inches, played tight end and was one of the better ones Clove had seen. The two had a respect and admiration for each other's athletic prowess, and they talked much about sports.

Clove looked back at the new boy as he glanced in her direction. Granted that her eyes weren't failing her, she could have sworn she'd seen a wink, but rolled her eyes and assumed it was for Jacqueline or Madge, Katniss' attention being on Peeta as he told some sort of a joke.

It couldn't have been for her.

* * *

The night went on, and Cato found himself still accompanying Glimmer. To talk to guests, to dance, to get a drink. It wasn't his style. He didn't know when he became, for lack of a better term, Glimmer's arm candy. Didn't plan on it, didn't enjoy it. Occasionally, he glanced back over at the table and on one of those occasions, caught the eye of the Clove girl he'd heard about earlier. For some reason unfathomable to him, she'd drawn his attention like a moth to a flame. Maybe it was her striking beauty in the plain dress, maybe it was the way she ignored his attention.

He didn't have much time to dwell on it, as Glimmer leaned over to whisper in his ear "Wanna see the rest of the house?" she asked suggestively, and Cato smirked.

Maybe the Hamptons weren't so boring after all.

* * *

An alarm rang through a dark room at five in the morning, and a small hand emerged out of a red comforter as Clove hit the stop button, knowing full well the temptations of snoozing for another five minutes. She sat up, yawning before slowly getting out of bed.

Clove Kensington was a girl of routine. Every morning at five, she went out to run six miles wherever she desired—sometimes around the property, other times on the beach for the extra resistance training. She prided herself in her self-discipline, proving that she was indeed Mark Kensington's daughter.

After taking no more than ten minutes to get herself ready, she walked down the grand staircase and made her way to the front door, clad in her black sports bra and a pair of red running shorts, her Nikes treading lightly on the marble floor. She toyed with her iPod touch, about to activate her morning playlist when she collided with a hard body, causing the device to fall on her hands and drop onto the marble floor. "Shit," she muttered, picking it up before she decided to look up. Sure enough, it was Glimmer's new toy, the Cato Weston boy from last night. He had the same outfit on, only his shirt had been disheveled and unbuttoned and he had his jacket slung over his shoulder. Clove could have sworn that he reeked of sex and Chanel No. 5.

Cato raised an eyebrow, not used to being the second priority when it came to the attention. "It helps if you look up when you're walking," he commented, as she immediately narrowed her eyes at him.

"It helps if someone's not walking around _my _house at five in the morning," she snapped.

His lips formed a smirk, and Clove found herself instantly annoyed. Who did this guy think he was and what was stopping her from punching him in the face right then? "Glimmer said no one was home," he shrugged nonchalantly and then eyed her up and down. "Early morning workout?"

"Glimmer forgets it's not her house," Clove rolled her eyes, still feeling possessive over the residence. The Joyces had moved in a few months ago, and though the house was more than enough to fit the four of them, Clove felt it to be an encroachment upon her space. It was the Kensington house, for the Kensingtons and the Kensingtons alone, she believed adamantly. "Yes. If you'll excuse me, I'd like to get it started as soon as possible and I'm already running behind." She walked past him to the front door about to leave, when he spoke up.

"Wait," he said, and Clove turned around, an eyebrow raised as she plugged an earphone in. "I left my keys with the valet yesterday, know where I can find them?"

"Just find the groundskeeper," she answered flatly, as if completely uninterested in the conversation.

"Thanks. Cato, by the way, Cato Weston," he stuck his hand out, and she stared at it for a few seconds before returning the handshake. Immediately, she recalled Gale talking about his arm size, and she took a fleeting moment to observe the one in front of her. The action did not go unnoticed to Cato, following her gaze at his arm and he smirked once more. Clove had to admit, his arm was a good size, but looking back up at his smirk, she knew better than to tell him so.

"Clove," she replied curtly, assuming that by now he'd know her last name. He did, after all, attend the wedding and was currently standing in the house. It took a special kind of person to miss the numerous jerseys of her father framed in the hallway, the name Kensington bold in its stitched lettering.

"I'm sure this isn't the last time we'll see each other around," he stated coolly, implying that he'd already established his presence in the Kensington household by sleeping with Glimmer.

She scoffed, putting one hand on the doorknob and opening the door. "You think you're sticking around because you had sex with Glimmer Joyce? You really are new here, aren't you." She plugged in her other earphone before slipping past the front door and started on her jog.

Cato watched the short, brunette girl run down the long driveway from one of the large glass windows, trying to process what just happened. He had just been insulted. Cato Weston was never insulted, and he always had the final word. "What the fuck," he muttered under his breath.

Clove was undoubtedly interesting, he couldn't deny so. And when Cato found something interesting, particularly a girl, he didn't stop until he conquered it.

* * *

**A/N: So, judging by the reviews and the story alerts, I didn't do too bad, eh?**

**Which is great because I have lots of muse for this story, and so many ideas for what's in store. Now that has a cover photo thing, I'd love it if you guys sent in manips/artwork because quite frankly I suck at those things and would love a picture (:**

**You'll notice I'm a huge sports buff, and I couldn't ignore the physical nature of Clato in the books. What better way to incorporate that than to show off their strength in athletics? For those who need a little help with the terminology, Clove thought Cato was a ****linebacker****: a defensive position in football, usually tall and able to stop both the run and the pass. Gale, however, sees him more as a ****quarterback**,  **the offensive leader essentially who throws the ball, hence the big arm. Gale himself is a ****tight end****, a guy who both gets passes and blocks and is generally supposed to be pretty big. I know it's a lot to take in for non-football fans, so please bear with me!**

**Keep reviewing! They really make me happy. Tell me what you like, tell me what you don't like, tell me if there's something you think I should add, I love reading it all!**

**Also, I'm a stalker of the Clato tumblr tag but alas, I'm not cool enough to have a Clato tumblr. So if you could, share this fic on the Clato tag so the other wonderful diehard shippers can enjoy!**


	3. Chapter 3

Cato parked his car on a spot by the boardwalk, looking for some form of entertainment in the resort town. He Couldn't deny that Southampton was a far cry from Manhattan in every way that mattered. As far as he knew, there were no clubs in Southampton, nor any outrageous penthouse parties. It was like a step away from rehab for a man who indulged in the reckless scene.

Stepping out of his car, he put his Wayfarers on and looked around for any familiar faces. Like the Upper East Side, the majority of the crowd was extremely wealthy and white, though they seemed to be nowhere near as interesting as the wild crowd in the city. As he recalled those from last night, he spotted Marvel and Gale loading cans of beer into the bed of a large silver pickup truck. Approaching them, he asked bluntly, "What's the booze for?"

Marvel turned around, chuckling. "Oh, hey Weston!" He greeted enthusiastically, flashing his megawatt smile. "Glimmer's parents are out of the country so she wanted a party at the beach house." Gale loaded the last of the beer before putting the tarp over the purchases.

"You coming?" Gale asked, twirling his keys around on a finger.

Cato shrugged. "I'm sure she's not gonna mind me being there after last night," he laughed and earned congratulatory looks and fistbumps from both boys. "Ran into that Clover girl this morning though. Is she always a bitch?"

Marvel and Gale looked at each other and laughed. "Yeah, Clove's not really anyone's biggest fan. She's something else," Marvel chuckled and Gale nodded in agreement. "Besides, you caught her in the morning before her workout." Cato couldn't help but notice that neither of the men particularly had a problem with Clove, seemingly accustomed to her abrasive nature.

"Seems like she needs to get laid," Cato muttered, which emitted another laugh from Marvel and a scoff from Gale.

"Clove's… she's not that kind of girl," Marvel replied, apparently struggling with his description of her. "She's definitely not Glimmer Joyce."

"Is she going to be there tonight?" Cato inquired, though he held out any form of curiosity from hims voice. Through the years, he'd mastered the poise and indifference that made him seem infinitely more smooth than the average person, and Marvel and Gale detected no unusual amount of interest.

"She better be, Gale and I challenged her and Kat to a game of volleyball before sundown," Marvel grinned confidently. Cato raised an eyebrow in interest.

"Alright man, I'll see you there, I guess," he said as the two climbed into their truck.

Another day, another party.

* * *

At eight in the evening, the sun still shone on the shoreline as Clove pulled up in her car. She hadn't done much that day except work out, so when Marvel called her up to challenge, she couldn't refuse the offer. Clove thrived in every form of physical competition, and beach volleyball was no exception.

Driving up to the Joyce beach house, she spotted a few familiar cars, somewhat relieved that the party didn't consist entirely of Glimmer's friends. Of course, she wasn't there to take part in the drinking games-she was there to beat Marvel and Gale.

She stepped out of her car and immediately spotted Katniss, wearing the same blue racer back top and black spandex. Being the two most athletic girls in their group, Clove and Katniss found themselves teaming up in any form of partner sports. Katniss had the height that Clove's 5'4 stature was missing, and Clove had the explosive speed that wasn't found in anyone but her. They both prided themselves in near perfect precision, making them deadly on the offense.

"Ready?" she asked, shooting Katniss a sly grin. Katniss nodded confidently, spinning the volleyball in her hands.

They walked over to the net in between the house and the water, where Gale and Marvel stood shirtless awaiting their arrival. "Hope you're okay with losing today, ladies," Marvel smirked, his tone being an almost arrogant but joking one. Gale stood silently, stretching his long arms. What their team didn't have in precision, they made up for in their sheer size and power. Gale executed the perfect kill harder than anyone Clove had ever faced, and Marvel was more than sufficient in blocking.

Cato arrived in time to see the beginning of the game, watching from the deck of the beach house with a cold beer in his hand while four took to the sand court. Katniss tossed up the opening serve to begin the game, and the ball was quickly returned by a pass from Gale to Marvel, who awaited his set and executed it perfectly. Gale went up for the kill, swinging an arm to slam down the ball. Knowing full well how strong Gale appeared, Cato wasn't surprised when the spike came fast and hard. What he was surprised by, though, was how the ball didn't hit the sand like he expected. Instead, the ball was met by a diving Clove who managed to get under it and make the quick pass to Katniss. _Damn, _he thought to himself, impressed by both the short girl's reflex and technique. He watched as she got up to make the set for Katniss, who aimed the ball on the outer corner unguarded by either of the boys. The first point belonged to the girls.

The scrimmage continued as the two teams went back and forth in lead changes. Occasionally, Gale would overpower the girls or Marvel would set up a perfect block, and other times Katniss found the seam in between the two boys or Clove would come up with her own kill.

It was 19-19, and Clove was covered in sweat. The sun was finally starting to set, but not before it left parts of her with a pinkish tint. She hated her complexion's incompatibility with the sun, knowing she was probably going to feel the burning sensation tomorrow. She shook off thoughts of it as she eyed her partner, who was getting ready to take the serve. Marvel tossed it up, Katniss taking the return and Clove setting her up for the kill. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the familiar blonde boy from her house that morning, spending only a fleeting second recalling their cold exchange. It was, however, a fleeting second she would regret.

Instead of Clove effortlessly moving out of the way, though, she found her foot caught on the sand and fell over. While her leg went one way, her foot went another and she immediately felt a searing pain as she went down on the sand. Katniss looked at her fallen partner, horrified as Marvel and Gale ran over to the still lying down Clove.

"Clove? You alright?" Marvel asked, crouching down to Clove who was attempting to sit up.

"Fine," she grimaced, looking at the ankle that was already starting to swell up. "Let's keep playing," she said stubbornly, attempting to get up with her arms when Katniss put her hands on the smaller girl's shoulders preventing the action.

Gale took a look at her ankle, his eyebrows furrowing from the size it was starting to become. "Yep, that's a sprain," he concluded, and rather than having her stand and limped, the larger boy picked her up.

"Gale! Let me go, I can still play, dammit!" she said angrily, objecting to his actions. "We were about to win!"

"Clove, if it means that much to you, we'll let you have it," Marvel laughed at the tiny girl's attempts.

"Screw you, Marvel, that's not a damn win," she mumbled, crossing her arms as Gale carried her to the beach house, and Marvel and Katniss couldn't help but laugh at the tantrum she was throwing.

As they passed by the deck, Clove spotted Cato Weston leaning against the deck railinhis taking a drink of his beer before flashing her a smirk. No one else had seen it, but Clove rolled her eyes as her blood instantly started to boil over his sheer expression.

She was put down on the couch as Marvel reached into the beer cooler, grabbing a ziplock bag and filling it with ice from the cooler. There certainly was no first aid anywhere around, and he figured it was the best they could do for now.

"Sit tight and ice it," Katniss suggested. The rest of the guests had started to roll in, filling up the beach as the socialized and drank.

"You gonna be okay here?" Gale asked, not fully intending on babysitting Clove the whole night while she was in a foul mood. All three of them knew to leave Clove alone in times of anger-she preferred it that way.

Clove nodded, still fuming as Marvel handed her the game controller to the Xbox 360. If anything cheered up Clove, even the slightest bit, it was playing video games and repeatedly beating the computer. "Thanks," she muttered as Madden '12 started up, and the three made their way out of the room. She heard the door click, and grumbled to herself about being immobile before a voice spoke up from behind her.

"You shouldn't get distracted so easily, it's obviously dangerous," the cocky tone unmistakeable as Clove groaned. Sure enough, Cato plopped down on the other end of the couch.

"I wasn't distracted," she muttered, her eyes fixated on the TV screen. "I don't get distracted." It irritated Cato, for some reason, that she didn't intend on pulling her vision away from the TV. With a lightbulb going off in his head, his lips formed a smirk once again as he made his way to her, closing some of the distance.

"You sure about that, babe?" he asked, placing a hand of his on the small of her back.

Immediately, her head snapped in his direction over the contact as she glared at him. "Get your damn hands off me," she demanded, and he let out a chuckle, running his hand down further before pulling it away.

"Scared of feeling something, Kensington?" Arrogance seeped through his voice. Clove almost found herself shuddering out of disgust, but managed to maintain her composure.

She shot him a look of pure loathing. "Fuck you, Weston," she shot back.

It only elicited a laugh from Cato, enjoying the reaction he evoked from her. "I mean, if that's what you want," he replied as he inched his way closer once again, and it was the final straw for Clove. She instinctively threw her fist right at the side of his face, making contact with his cheekbone. Unable to put much weight into the punch, she was utterly disappointed in the lack of power, but satisfied with the outcome.

Cato backed away, rubbing his fingers on his cheekbone. "Bitch," he muttered, and Clove smirked before her lips formed a serious frown once more.

"I don't know what the hell you're trying to do, but I'm not here to fuck around with," she spat, livid with anger. Stil, she attempted to control her emotions, steadying her breathing. She absolutely hated that he'd gotten something out of her, despite the fact that it was a well-deserved punch. "Try Glimmer for that."

He rolled his eyes and got up, before looking back at her. "You're adorable when you're mad, you know that?" he laughed, and it took every fiber in Clove's body to not hurl the controller at him, turning her attention back to the TV screen.

Cato walked back out onto the beach, where he was immediately spotted by Glimmer. "Cato, where have you been?" she greeted him before slipping her hand around his arm, almost marking him as her territory. She looked up at him, narrowing her eyes at his off-colored cheekbone. "What happened to your face?"

"Cabinet," he muttered, his excuse completely believable to Glimmer.

_You're gonna give in, Clove Kensington,_ he thought to himself, looking back at the lit beach house. _Everyone always does._

* * *

__**A/N: Yay for a new chapter! I'll admit I got lost right in the middle of this, wondering where in the world would take the beach volleyball scene. Inspiration came from a mix between the Last Song (duh Liam) and Revenge where they had a beach volleyball scene.**

**Thanks so much for reviewing! I heard from a few of you that this was like Gossip Girl and Revenge, and I must admit I did find inspiration in location from Revenge. I didn't make the connection between GG and the fic until you guys pointed it out, but it most definitely makes sense! Cato does have some Chuck Bass qualities, haha.**

**Answering some questions:**

** .hair - yes, Katniss is rich (: I wanted to focus less on the actual wealth differences in the characters and more on the moral wealth so you'll find I don't play the money differences a lot. I might soon though! Also, I haven't quite yet decided if Everlark is truly dating... but I will. I can clarify, though, that Marvel and Jacqueline are NOT, they just happened to go to a wedding together.**

**Marina - I pictured Clove almost like Isabelle - short and athletic but obviously more mature since I made her seventeen in this book. She is not, however, curvy like Glimmer. She has lean muscles and she's incredibly in shape (:**

**Keep reviewing! Still waiting for someone to send in a cover photo of some sort, that would be lovely! And tell all your Clato friends!**

**Coming up... School. I don't know about you, but I'm excited for Panem Prep.**


	4. Chapter 4

The unpleasant sound of an alarm clock blared through a dimly lit room, and a large figure on the bed remained unstirred.

Cato Weston had spent much of his Sunday hung over watching football, alone in the house dreading the next day.

And before he knew it, it was, of course, the next day. Monday meant it was his first day at Panem Preparatory School, enrolling a few weeks into the school year that had already started.

The door creaked open in the dimly lit room, and another figure opened the blinds, letting in an overwhelming amount of sunlight. "Cato Alexander Weston, get up now, you are _not_ going to be late to school," an old lady's voice said sternly, but Cato didn't budge. He figured that maybe, just maybe, he could sleep in for another four hours. It wasn't like he went to school too much in Manhattan anyway.

When he made no movement, though, the old lady flung off the covers and grabbed the pseudo-sleeping Cato by the ear. "I said get up!" she yelled, poking a finger at him before using the ear to get the boy up.

"Dammit, grandma!" Cato groaned, following the tug of his ear. Irene Weston was Cato's short, frail-looking grandma though appearances were deceptive. Once a successful lawyer, she had raised Cato's father with a strong sense of discipline and she heard about Cato's ordeal with the police, deciding he needed that same Weston discipline. What better way to do so than take him in?

Of course, Cato hadn't been too happy about the whole arrangement, especially now, as he got up groggily and the old woman shoved him along to the bathroom. "Get dressed and hurry up! You're not leaving without eating breakfast."

Cato groaned, but nevertheless followed the old woman's instructions as he got ready. After stepping out of the shower, he looked at the well-pressed uniform on a hanger in front of his closet and frowned. His loathing for school was clear as he put on the khaki pants, a white shirt and a blue monogram blazer, leaving his green tie for last. He sculpted his hair to stick out exactly the way he wanted it to-Cato Weston was a man of precision, and he liked looking his best.

He made his way downstairs, where Irene had prepared him a plate of French toast and he scarfed it down, grabbing his backpack and heading out of the door. For a moment, he thought about not showing up to school at all and just driving up to Manhattan to reunite with his friends. A few reasons in his mind, though, ultimately made him pull into the prestigious Panem Preparatory School. One, he had no change of clothes and would have hated to walk around Manhattan in the ridiculous uniform. Two, the wrath of his grandmother was something he knew not to mess with. And three? He had another chance to mess with Clove Kensington.

He found a spot in the parking lot, and looked at the building he was heading into. It was part of a conglomerate, a group of brick buildings with white pillars supporting the second floor above what looked to be walkways. He headed into the biggest building, assuming that was the one he was supposed to report to. Finding the office easy enough, he was immediately spotted by a man wearing a charcoal colored suit with the faintest hint of golden buttons.

"Are you Mr. Weston?" the man inquired expectantly.

"That I am, Mr..." he trailed off, unsure of who exactly the man was.

"Mr. Cinna St. Martin," the man said, sticking out his hand. "Principal of Panem Preparatory. Your father and I actually went to college together." Cato nodded, actually disinterested in the subject. He and his father had never particularly been close, the older man dedicating much of his life and time to his career rather than his son. "Welcome. I assigned my son, Thresh, to show you to your first class." A similar looking boy came through the door, though this one was larger in stature, arguably bigger than Cato.

Cato gave him a nod and the other returned the gesture, as he walked out of the office wordlessly and into the halls. It appeared that Thresh definitely wasn't the talking type and Cato assumed he would make no conversation whatsoever. He was, however, proved wrong when the large boy finally spoke up. "You play football?" he asked.

It took Cato awhile to fully process what he'd said. "Uh... Yeah," he answered. The reply was quite vague and somewhat misleading-Cato played football when he was in his freshman year of high school, though he'd quit upon realizing his irritation for team sports. That and the fact that he hated showing up to practice.

"You look like it," Thresh commented gruffly. They stopped at a wooden door with a glass window and Cato peered inside the classroom before looking at Thresh. Between the two glances, he caught sight of a familiar looking girl in a school uniform a few steps away from him, putting books in her own backpack. He noticed a large plastic cast around her right ankle and instantly smirked.

"Hey Kensington," he called out to her and her head turned quickly towards him. Upon seeing who the voice belonged to, she rolled her eyes, looking instantly pissed off. She shut her locker door, revealing the aluminum crutches that were leaning against the adjacent locker that she picked up and placed underneath her arms. She looked absolutely miserable, but Cato couldn't deny that she still had an attractiveness with her misery.

"Weston," she addressed him in a hostile tone. She looked up to see Thresh, and Cato couldn't help but notice that she instantly averted her gaze. Something had to be going on between the two of them, but as to what it was, Cato was clueless. "Thresh.." she said weakly, addressing the boy whose arms were crossed.

"Clove," he acknowledged her curtly, as the air grew thick with some unexplainable tension. Thresh turned back to Cato as the warning bell rang. "I have to go to class. Practice is at 3:30." With that, the large boy turned around and headed back to the direction of the office.

Clove stood there in her crutches, staring Cato down. "You're not telling me you're here for first period," she grimaced.

"I apparently didn't have to," Cato smirked, and Clove huffed as she took her and her crutches inside. She seated herself in the back near the door, and Cato walked up to the teacher.

"Cato Weston, sir," he said to the man at the desk.

"Ah, Mr. Weston. Attorney Weston's son," the man said as he stood up, shaking Cato's hand firmly. "I'm Mr. Abernathy, welcome to English Literature." _So that's what this class is_, Cato thought. He'd never particularly liked reading anything, especially not assigned reading. "You can take the seat next to Ms. Kensington in the back," he said, pointing at the vacant desk.

Clove, upon hearing so, let out a groan as she placed her hands on her face in misery. Madge, who sat in front of her, turned around to face the unpleasant Clove. "How are you complaining right now? I would be dying of excitement!" she hissed, as Cato approached them with a smirk.

"Looks like we're gonna get to know each other really well, Kensington," he said smugly as he took the desk beside Clove. She did nothing to return his statement, sitting in silence. "You and Thresh look like good friends. Anything going on there?" All Cato wanted was to get some form of emotion out of Clove, but to no avail. He looked at her left hand clutching onto a pen as her knuckles started turning white. Though she continued her vow of silence, Cato knew there was something. He'd work on that later.

* * *

Lunchtime came around as the students filled the great dining hall, a room filled with cathedral style windows and mahogany tables. Immediately upon getting his food and entering, Cato was spotted by Glimmer who excitedly pulled him towards a table in the middle of the dining hall. "Cato, I want you to meet the rest of my friends," she smiled and Cato forced himself to return the gesture. Glimmer seemed to be approaching girlfriend territory, and Cato disapproved of the thought. Chasing her in the beginning was fun because, hell, she was easily one of the most attractive girls he'd seen. Now that he had her, though, he was getting bored. _She's not as pretty as Clove either_, a voice in his mind told him. _What? No, _he scolded himself, shaking off the thought. Girls weren't pretty-they were hot or sexy or anything else that made them seem completely disposable. Pretty was for things that you didn't want to break, and Cato was positive that he wanted to break Clove Kensington.

He was snapped out of his thoughts at Glimmer's enthusiastic voice. "Of course you already know Madge and Marvel," she started, the two sitting on the other end of the table giving him a friendly wave. "And this is Cashmere and Gloss Lilly. Both of their parents are fashion designers." The two looked at Cato, Cashmere smiling and Gloss giving a head nod. He didn't know what kind of parents gave them the ridiculous names, but he tried his best not to scoff. He placed his tray on the table and sat down in between Glimmer and Marvel, as she started talking about next week's party. Normally, he would be attentive to such matters, but his eye caught sight of the familiar brunette a few tables away. While she maneuvered around the seats in her crutches, her red headed friend carried her tray and placed it beside her own. They joined people who Cato recognized from the wedding and the beach house: Katniss, Gale, and Peeta. As he watched her from a distance, he nodded occasionally at Glimmer's statements until she asked, "You'll do it, right, Cato?"

He returned his attention to Glimmer, who was awaiting his answer over a question he had no idea about. "Yeah, sure," he replied.

* * *

"Clove, he's staring at you," Jacqueline observed, and Clove looked up from her salad.

"Huh?" she asked, looking up. She'd been in a pissy mood the whole day, having suffered the pains of being in crutches. The doctors told her to at least give it three days, noting that the injury wasn't serious. Still, they took precautions to prevent further injury and tried to speed up the healing process with the crutches. The doctors knew well enough how much Clove wanted to just get back on her feet.

"That Cato Weston guy. He's been looking in this direction for the past five minutes," Jacqueline answered. "What does he want?"

Clove shrugged, trying to hide her irritation. "Who knows, Fox."

"Maybe he's interested," Peeta suggested lightheartedly.

"Hah," Clove scoffed. "Not with Glimmer on her knees." The rest of the table let out a few laughs, used to Clove's bitterness over her sister.

"Is it so impossible that some guy could actually be interested in you, Clove?" Jacqueline pointed out.

Clove looked at her best friend like she was stupid, before nodding stubbornly. She was Clove Kensington. Relationships were certainly not in her vocabulary, nor in her schedule. She'd even given it a fair attempt once, but regretted the consequences. She was not going to spend time entertaining Cato Weston's games.

* * *

Marvel was a smart guy. An extremely perceptive one, and he could see through just about anyone's act, just as well as he put up a front of his own.

So when he followed Cato's gaze to his brunette best friend, he made logical assumptions. _Oh no_, he thought, knowing exactly the trouble that was in front of him. He looked at all the parties involved. Cato, Clove, Glimmer... there was no way that was going to end well.

He'd grown close to Clove through strange circumstances, and he knew exactly who the real Clove Kensington was. And he was positive that Cato Weston would be no good for the real Clove.

He sighed as he glanced down on his food, Madge raising her eyebrow at the sudden, spontaneous sound.

He quickly flashed his smile at Madge, though the frustration in his mind dominated his thoughts.

Someone was going to get their heart broken and it wasn't going to be pretty.

* * *

**A/N: As I was writing this, a brilliant idea came to me. I can't say exactly what it is, but you guys should REALLY stay tuned. I'll give you a hint, it has to do with Clove's backstory and why she can't seem to look Thresh in the eye. Any guesses? Leave them for me in a review.** (:

**or leave anything in a review for that matter! Questions, comments, and happy thoughts are all welcome. I mean it when I say they keep me writing. **

**RosiePotter - I'm still figuring out the exact roll of some of the minor characters, including Peeta, but there will be more of him. As for the other two questions, stick around for that (: Also I could never get sick of your encouragement, dear!**

**Velveteenstars - Southampton is a village in The Hamptons, which is where a ton of New York's wealthiest vacation (it's in Long Island). There are a ton of huge estates right by the beach and it's one of the most affluent places in America.**

**Coming up... Two f's. One being football, the other being... well... you'll see.**


	5. Chapter 5

The sun was beating down on the practice field as the Panem Preparatory Football Team ran their warm up laps, dreading the heat with their full pads on. Cato had somehow managed to find Gale among the large crowd of men, and ran alongside him, both of their breathing steady in their light run. "Are you guys any good?" he asked the taller boy, who glanced at him before looking straight ahead once more.

Gale shrugged. "We're monsters on defense," he replied, before he nodded at Thresh who was ahead by a few strides. "Thresh over there's the best defensive tackle in the conference. Got a few D1 schools looking." Cato raised an eyebrow, impressed, though he wasn't surprised by the supposed power of the large, muscular boy. That and he looked like the tough, ruthless type as well.

As they finished their laps, the two slowed down their pace. "Weston!" Cato turned quickly to see where the loud, deep voice came from, and saw a coach motioning him over. He jogged to the spot, helmet in hand. "Coach Max Brutus. Son, what do you bench?"

Cato replied confidently, "280, 300 on a good day."

"Not bad at all," Coach Brutus replied and thrust a football right out of his chest. "You interested in QB?"

He shrugged. The appeal of it was undeniable, Cato reasoned to himself. Being the leader of the offense responsible for most of the scoring meant getting all the glory. "Sure," he said coolly, and heard his coach chuckle.

"Alright. Hawthorne over there's our second string, he'll get you through some of the plays and play receiver through some. Then we'll put you in a scrimmage and see what you got, kid," Coach Brutus explained, and gave him a pat on the back and shoved him over to Gale's direction.

The two went over simple routes, Gale wasting no time in babying the new player and going straight to plain football terminology. Cato had been out of the game for so long that it took him awhile to remember a few terms here and there, but at the pace Gale was going, he didn't bother stopping him. Nor did he want to look unknowledgeable on any level, so he nodded confidently at everything the taller boy said. They completed a few passes, Gale impressed at how far Cato could throw. He noticed, though, that despite his brute strength, Cato had a few problems here and there with his accuracy, sometimes going way too far for Gale to catch up with.

It didn't go unnoticed by Coach Brutus. In scrimmage situations, Cato's receivers found themselves diving to make the catch or not making it at all. Frustration was starting to seep into Cato's mood, convinced that his receivers were half-assing everything. Because it wasn't his damn fault, and he knew that.

"Weston!" Coach called again, and Cato grumbled, taking off his helmet and heading back to the coach. "You plan on giving your receivers a damn break? They're not Olympic sprinters."

Cato rolled his eyes in anger, his short temper about to rear its head when another voice spoke up. "This young man the new quarterback?" Both men turned around to see a tall, slightly muscular dark-haired man. His skin was on the paler side, and Cato recognized him from two things. One, he was the groom at the wedding he'd attended. Two, he bore an uncanny resemblance to a particular girl. Mark Kensington stood in front of him. Two time Super Bowl champion, Pro-Bowl and about to be Hall of Fame quarterback Mark Kensington. Cato Weston was the last person to be starstruck, growing up around famous people, but Mark Kensington was different—he was the kind of guy millions of young boys idolized in their days of little league football.

"Yep, Cato Weston," Coach Brutus said, gesturing at Cato, who managed to pull himself together and shake Mark's hand. In the middle of the motion, a commotion had erupted in the scrimmages, and Brutus quickly blew his whistle and headed over, leaving Cato and Mark alone.

"Impressive arm strength, Cato," Mark noted, and before Cato could mutter a thank you, he continued. "Accuracy, not so much though, I see."

Cato found himself grumbling, "It's the damn receivers. They're too slow."

Mark let out a chuckle, and Cato almost found himself annoyed—until he thought about it once again, and realized it was still Mark Kensington standing in front of him. "You don't do team sports, do you, Weston?" Cato shook his head. "Look, man, you're strong. I'll give you that. Hell, probably even stronger than I was in my senior year."

"What are you getting at, Mr. Kensington?" he snapped.

"It's Mark, buddy," he replied, amused at the young man's fire. "The thing is, you can't win with your strength. You have to know what you want, Weston, and you have to figure out how to get it and it isn't always going to come down to how much power you have. See Hawthorne over there?" He pointed at Gale, who was standing confidently in the midst of other exhausted players. "He's about fifteen yards from you at any play. You give him the ball and he'll take it thirty. It's not gonna get you passing yards on the stat sheet, but it's going to get you a damn touchdown."

Cato huffed, before muttering a "Yessir."

"Tell you what. Why don't you come to dinner," Mark suggested. "We'll talk more. And my wife tells me you've become friends with one of my daughters anyway, she seems to take a liking to you. Six o'clock."

_Not the one I want, dammit_, Cato thought to himself, before nodding at the request. "Yeah, I'll be there."

* * *

Clove limped down the grand staircase of her house, exhausted from a session of physical therapy. She had left her crutches in her room, doing away with the wretched things as she simply walked with her plastic cast. It caused almost as much irritation, adding unnecessary weight to her foot. Just three more days in the cast, she told herself, anxious to get back to her full abilities.

Earlier, her father and stepmother had come back from their honeymoon in the French Riviera. It was a short period, but Stella had said something about needing to be back for some charity event. Whatever it was, Clove took no interest and didn't listen to much more.

She made her way to the dining room, knowing it was time for dinner, and she found herself instantly pissed off at the sight. Cato Weston was sitting at the table, chatting with her father. _Are you fucking kidding me_, Clove thought, keeping her phase emotionless as she took a seat.

"God, Clover, you couldn't dress up for dinner? We have a guest," Glimmer commented, in her own floral dress as she sat beside Cato, eyeing her sister who was clad in a t-shirt and spandex.

"Missed the memo," Clove retorted.

"Girls," Mark interrupted sternly, before turning to his own daughter. "Clo, this is Cato Weston. He's the new quarterback at Panem."

"I know," Clove muttered under her breath, trying hard not to glare at Cato as an arrogant smirk formed on her lips.

"We've met," Cato replied confidently. "I was there when she got injured, actually."

Mark raised his eyebrows in interest. "How is that, Clove, anyway? You gonna be out of practice for long?" he asked his daughter, before taking a piece of his steak and chewing on it.

"Three days in the cast and I should be good," Clove replied, with her own exuding confidence. She was ready to be back. "In time for the first game."

Mark grinned at his daughter proudly, turning to Cato. "Clove over here's the best striker Panem's had," he bragged, in reference to Panem Preparatory's stellar soccer history. Clove remained unfazed. She had a consistent bored look to her face, Cato observed, hardly ever showing any positive emotion.

Glimmer, on the other hand, was tired of all of the attention that Clove was getting, and decided to steer the conversation to another subject. "Daddy," she started, and Mark turned to her. Clove rolled her eyes at the name. Mark wasn't Glimmer's father. "The mother-daughter brunch is coming up and I don't have a dress. I was wondering if we could take the jet to Manhattan this weekend?"

Clove was growing more irritated by the second. Glimmer was doing this on purpose. _Bitch_, she thought. Mark spent a few seconds in contemplation. "Glim, honey, are you sure you can't just call the driver? It's not even two hours away," he reasoned. Clove was her father's daughter—they'd never been particularly ostentatious, being a lot more practical than many Hampton residents.

"But dad, you know how important this is to me and mom," Glimmer whined, and Cato could instantly sense the tension rising in the room. He looked at Mark almost pitifully, the famous retired quarterback struggling to take control of the situation.

"Fine," Mark gave in. "But take Clove with you. She's going to the brunch with you and Stella, correct?"

Clove dropped her fork to glare at her dad. "No," she said firmly, shaking her head.

"Don't be ridiculous, dad," Glimmer scoffed. "Do you know what everyone would say about that?"

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Glimmer?" Clove spat. Cato stared intently at the girl seething with anger. He was impressed. Even _he _didn't get that much out of Clove, he had to hand it to Glimmer.

"Clove, I'm just looking out for you, since we're sisters and everything," Glimmer said, feigning innocence. Clove could see the glint in her eye, the satisfaction out of pouring salt on Clove's wounds. "I mean, I personally don't mind sharing mother with you, but people are going to talk. I mean, let's face it. Everyone knows what happened." Now Cato was indeed interested. What was it that was making Clove so incredibly infuriated?

"Glimmer, that's enough," Mark warned her, his voice considerably more intimidating than it had been.

"Fuck you, Glimmer," Clove said, getting up from the table. "I'm not fucking dealing with this." She abruptly exited the dining hall, limping away as she grabbed her keys from the kitchen. As they heard the front door shut with a bang, Mark flinched as he looked down on his plate.

"Is anyone going to…" Cato asked, breaking the silence.

Mark shook his head. "No," he said firmly. "She'd rather be alone." It made sense to Cato now, why all of her friends had left her at the beach house. "Glimmer, take the jet, I don't care. But never again are we talking about this." The girl fell into silence as they continued to eat their dinner.

Cato saw this as an opportunity. Clove Kensington was the most vulnerable she could possibly be, and this was it. This was when Cato would break her hard exterior. As they finished up, he executed his formalities. "Thanks for the dinner, Mark," he said. "I gotta get going, my grandma's waiting up." Mark shot him a friendly smile.

"You're welcome here anytime," the older man said, and Cato left the house. Cato couldn't help but notice the great contrast between Mark and Clove, the man so laidback and the girl so bitter.

He got in his car and drove out of the property, wondering which direction Clove had headed off to as he cruised along the road along the shore. From a distance, he could see a red car parked beside an empty dock, and he could've sworn that a tiny girl on the dock was the one he was looking for. He smirked to himself, pulling up beside the red car and getting out. His footsteps rang through the dock, but the girl didn't turn around, keeping her eyes at the rolling waves as she tried not to shiver from the cold ocean breeze.

"Fuck off, Weston," she said, and Cato let out an amused laugh.

He was going to have fun messing with this one.

* * *

**A/N: Thank you for all the reviews! I still have not revealed the Thresh/Clove connection in this chapter, I know, so keep guessing! I have given you a discrete hint, though, if some of you can get it, I'd be extremely impressed.**

**The two F's were football and the father, if nobody got that, haha. Also, imagining Alexander Ludwig sweaty in football practice? Yeah.. (; And we have some Glimmer/Clove hatred that is so much more than the regular stepsister angst. There will be more of that, I promise you.**

**Marina – I've been trying to update daily. However, tomorrow I'll be leaving for five days so I'm not entirely sure how that's going to work out. Sorry guys! I'll be writing chapters in my time away, most definitely. Uploading will be a challenge though.**

**Please please please keep reviewing and tell me ALL of your thoughts! Suggestions to the plot line are always welcome. Who knows? I might use them!**

**Follow me on tumblr (I got one now, yay!) it's compliclato[dot]tumblr[dot]com. Submit a cover picture!**

**I love you all. Seriously.**

**Next chapter. Think Cato's going to push Clove past her breaking point?**


	6. Chapter 6

As she heard his footsteps come closer, Clove willed herself to keep her eye contact focused on the sea. She wasn't going to turn around. It wasn't worth it, no matter what he said, no matter what buttons he pushed. She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of letting him in on her current state.

"Mark sent me to look for you," Cato lied, putting his hands in his pockets as he planted his feet a few feet away from the girl. Clove didn't buy it at all.

"Bullshit," she fired back. "Everyone who knows me leaves me alone." Cato laughed. She was a smart one.

"Okay," he replied, feigning surrender. "Maybe I just wanted to check and see if you were okay."

This time, Clove laughed, only the humor was absent from her tone. She kept her eyes on the waves, rubbing her shoulders again for warmth. The seaside was considerably colder at night, and Clove mentally cursed herself for not wearing something warmer. The gesture didn't go unnoticed.

"You cold?"

"Does it matter to you?"

"Whoa," Cato scoffed. "Why so hostile? You hardly even know me, Kensington."

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head at how pathetic she perceived the taller boy to be. "I know your type," she muttered, back to her bored tone. "You don't care about Glimmer, or about the team, so it's highly unlikely that you care about my well-being. You do, however, care about your personal entertainment, which is why you're there basking in my misery."

Cato smiled, amused. "And you? The guarded, tough girl who hates all form of emotion? What's this vulnerability you seem to have?"

It was then that she turned to him and glared for a moment, Cato taken aback by the sudden contact and intensity. He returned her gaze, though, looking at her with a deep interest. "I have none," she said flatly.

"Oh really?" he mused. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm pretty sure Glimmer got under your skin not too long ago. Which is why you're standing here, isn't it? Tell me, what is it, Clove? Divorce problems being the unwanted stepchild?"

For a moment, Cato could have sworn he saw a glint of brokenness in Clove's eyes, though they were quickly replaced by an unmistakable hostility and a hollow laugh. "Why don't you ask Glimmer? I'm sure she'd love to tell you."

"Oh, but I'd love to hear from the woman herself," Cato replied coolly.

"You want to hear the story?" she inquired, raising an eyebrow as she approached him. He nodded, still refusing to break the tense eye contact. "Get it from someone who's willing to be manipulated, Weston. I'm sure your new fandom would love to fill you in." With that, she walked past him once more, leaving Cato alone on the boardwalk as her engine revved up and pulled away.

He chuckled to himself, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Subconsciously, he found himself searching for a pack of cigarettes, but to no avail. Irene had gone through his possessions earlier that day, and confiscated everything she found detrimental to him, much to his dismay. He cursed to himself before getting into his car and heading home.

* * *

Clove pulled up to Panem Preparatory the next morning, getting out of her car and grabbing her crutches unwillingly. She loathed being crippled, seeming weak and slow and all of the things that she never wanted to be. She grumbled in her misery, and heard a snigger from behind her. Before she could deck who she thought was Cato, a different voice spoke up. "Need any help?"

She turned around to see a grinning Marvel, all sharp and polished in his uniform as usual. It was virtually impossible not to smile back at Marvel, even in the slightest bit. He exuded with a certain confidence and positivity, the kind that was likeable to just about everyone. It was a general assumption that Marvel Stone was the most liked boy in all of Panem Preparatory, and for a good reason. Still his charisma didn't prevent Clove from being Clove. "No thanks, Marvel," she said, hoisting her backpack onto her shoulders before starting her walk with her crutches.

Marvel laughed, shaking his head. "Suit yourself, dear," he shrugged, walking alongside her while hitching his own messenger bag strap onto his shoulders. "Word has it the new quarterback had dinner at your house?"

Clove groaned. "Don't remind me."

Marvel raised an eyebrow in interest, though hehas hardly surprised by Clove's negativity. "Didn't go too well, I presume?"

"What do you think. The guy's a conceited ass," Clove replied flatly, the venom in her tone of voice evident.

"Is he... you know, with Glimmer?" Marvel asked sheepishly, looking down on the ground. To anyone else, it would have seemed strange that Marvel was shying away from the question, but not to Clove.

She sighed. "You know Glimmer," she muttered. "Never liked the decent men." Looking up at Marvel, she almost gave him an apologetic glance. Marvel and Glimmer had been friends for longer than they could remember, and good dependable Marvel had always been there for Glimmer. She couldn't quite understand why-no one else could stand Glimmer for more than a day. But for some strange reason, Marvel would do anything for her. And he often got nothing in return from the queen bee.

He shrugged, brushing off the disappointment and putting on his positive, smiling front. "I know you hate her, Clove, but just make sure she doesn't get hurt," Marvel said, with an unmistakable sincerity. Before Clove could groan, he continued. "And yourself as well."

"Me?" Clove scoffed. "He couldn't hurt me, Stone. I'm not w-"

"I know you're not weak, Clove," he interrupted. "You're one of the strongest girls I know. But you're not invincible and sometimes you forget that. I'm serious, Clove, I care about you."

"Yeah yeah," Clove grumbled. "I'll see you at lunch or something." With that she limped off, leaving Marvel in front of the quad.

* * *

From a distance, Cato had watched the two walk into the hallways in some sort of conversation. Gone was the usual angry look that Clove often sported, and he even saw her smile twice. _She looks gorgeous when she does that__, _he thought to himself before he thought repulsively of his thoughts. He shook his head, wondering what had gotten into him to say such a thing. When she'd left and Marvel was standing completely alone, he approached the slender boy. "How do you get her to do that?" he asked, and Marvel looked up. When he saw who it was, he let out a fake, convincing chuckle.

"Who, Clove? Do what?" Marvel asked.

"Talk to you without biting your damn head off," Cato grumbled, and this time Marvel's laugh was genuine.

"A lifetime of proving I'm a nice guy," Marvel shrugged jokingly, though the statement was true. His expression sobered up a bit, as he continued on. "Trust me, if you get to know her, she has a heart. I swear, man."

"Doesn't look too friendly to me," he muttered.

Marvel sighed, knowing that Cato wouldn't get it. Especially since he had yet to learn anything about Clove. "Look, man. I know you've most likely been used to girls falling at your feet. It doesn't surprise me," Marvel started, with a still warm and friendly tone. "But don't give her a hard time for not being like the rest of them." With that, the warning bell rang and Cato groaned, making his way to literature class.

Cato smirked when he saw Clove in the seat beside him, staringa blankly at the desk in front of her with her head propped on her crossed arms on the table. "Morning, Kensington," he greeted her, to no response as her gaze remained uninterrupted.

He took his seat and the late bell rang, and Mr. Abernathy stood up, pacing around for a few seconds in silence. "Blindness." He said, and the class fell back to silence in confusion. "Assuming you have read King Lear like you were supposed to, you would know that his tragic flaw is blindness." Still, no one spoke up. Mr. Abernathy let out a sigh. "Your project this week... find something commonly misconceived by yourself. Get to know it. Find it's true nature. I don't care if you write a five page paper or do an interpretive dance."

The entire class groaned, all except for Cato, whose smirk grew bigger as he looked at his seating partner. "What are you looking at?" she snapped.

"A common misconception," he scoffed, as they took out their copies of Dante's Inferno to begin the class reading.

* * *

After one of Coach Brutus' tough practices, Cato's muscles were done. He couldn't remember the last time he'd pushed himself to the limit and despite the fact that the Panem Panthers weren't necessarily all that good, they were extremely well-conditioned. Cato could swear all of his muscles were on fire.

A hardly fazed Gale looked at the grimacing Cato, chuckling to himself. It was evident that Cato wasn't exactly the kind of guy who did team sports. Weightlifting, obviously, but he watched as the new guy suffered through every wind sprint for every missed block on the offense. He nudged at Cato. "The whirlpool bath helps a shit ton, man."

Cato nodded at his suggestion, knowing it was probably a legitimate one. He stripped out of his drenched practice attire down to nothing but his compression shorts and threw a towel over his shoulder, heading to the trainer's room.

He opened the door to hear the water running already, and as if the gods were in Cato's favor, Clove was sitting on the trainer's table icing her ankle in the whirlpool. She was clad in a black sports bra and a pair of spandex, her hair tied up in a messy ponytail. Cato had grown accustomed to seeing Clove in her athletic attire, realizing that she hardly felt ashamed of her body and for good reason. Even with her pale skin, he could see the muscle definition in her abdominal area. "Not a fan of clothes, are you?"

She glared at him, replying, "You're not one to talk right now." She looked at the other whirlpool bath in the room, then mentally groaned at her misfortune. "The other one's broken, so you're going to have to wait. I have fifteen minutes on here."

Cato chuckled. "Not a big fan of waiting. We could always share." Before Clove could protest, Cato was already starting to take off his compression shorts.

"Oh my god. What are you doing," Clove demanded, attempting to shield her eyes from a completely naked Cato.

"What?" Cato asked nonchalantly. "Have you never seen a naked guy before, Kensington?"

"Cato. Get out," Clove ordered, looking down with her hand over her brow to prevent any vision from any corners of her eye. She did, however, hear the sound of the water noting that Cato was indeed, in the ice bath. She'd filled some of it with ice which clouded the water, but that was starting to melt and Clove didn't dare look down.

"You're embarrassed. That's adorable," Cato scoffed, sitting opposite of her inside the sports bath. "You're a virgin, aren't you, Kensington?"

Clove refused to answer the question, and started to get up so she could leave the whirlpool. As she was about to get out of the bath, he grabbed her bad ankle with his own legs, causing her to yelp out in pain and fall forward at the sudden imbalance of force. Right on top of Cato. "Cato!" she yelled, when the door to the training room opened. Quickly, Clove looked up before she even thought about getting off of him. "Thresh..."

Cato's head snapped in the direction of the large boy, who stood in place halfway into the room. "Don't mind me," he muttered, heading for the trainer's cabinet as he pulled out a roll of wrap. "Looks like you're your mother's daughter."

Having no idea what that meant, Cato watched as Clove instantly tensed up, showing an unparalleled uneasiness as she quickly got off of him and out of the bathtub, putting on her plastic air cast.

Thresh left the room before she did and Cato watched them both move in a severe state of discomfort, the room falling into a weird silence. Silent enough that when Thresh left, he could almost hear a sniffle from the small girl. Was she about to cry? Cato couldn't believe it. How did Thresh break her with one comment?

She quickly picked up her backpack, avoiding any type of eye contact with the boy still in the room. She refused to let him see her break.

Cato got up and out of the tub, putting his compression shorts on in an attempt to get some answers. "What's going on?" he questioned, as Clove pushed him out of the way to get through the doorway. She wasn't going to cry in front of him.

He turned around to try to catch up to her, but as he walked out of the training room, she was already halfway down the hall.

* * *

Marvel and Peeta had turned the corner earlier, fresh out of rowing practice when they saw a teary-eyed Clove briskly walking towards them. They saw Cato in only his compression shorts at the other end of the hallway, trying to put two and two together. "Clove?" Marvel asked, but the girl didn't look up and pushed past them and out into the parking lot.

They looked at each other, confused and worried. "I'll go make sure she's okay," Marvel said, and Peeta nodded, walking over to Cato to try and figure out what was going on.

"Uhh... you wanna tell me what's happening, man?" Peeta asked.

"Fuck if I know," Cato muttered. "She's on top of me, then Thresh walks in and says some shit about her mother and now I think she's crying."

The oversimplified explanation confused Peeta, who raised both eyebrows incredulously. "She was on top of you?" he repeated. "And Thresh saw you guys? Hold on... am I hearing things?"

Cato shrugged. "I guess. What the fuck is up with this whole mother business?"

Peeta sighed, realizing he was going to have to be _that_ guy who had to tell Cato. "Well... Clove's mom died last year. Apparently she was driving home drunk and ran a red light. She crashed into Thresh's car while he was driving his little sister Rue home and Rue died too, but Thresh got a few bruises."

* * *

**a/n: Okay. Another cliffhanger, I know, I know, and I'm so incredibly sorry for keeping you guys waiting, I hope you're still reading!**

**Thank you so much for all the suggestions! I'm definitely thinking long and hard about them, don't worry, I'll credit you guys if I use any of them!**

**And thank you for all of the reviews! You guys make me so happy with Clato love. **

**There is much more to the Thresh/Clove storyline so hang in there! And keep reviewing! I'm going to try to update at least every two days from here on out, guys. Tell your Clato friends and reblog the excerpts! (:**


	7. Chapter 7

So that explained it. Glimmer's ability to control Clove's temperament, the noticeable tension between Thresh and Clove. Cato almost felt a certain guilt, a pity for the girl, but quickly brushed it off knowing he really had nothing to do with the whole ordeal. Aside from the fact that Clove ended up on top of him, but that was obviously a negligible detail. "Oh. Hmm, interesting," Cato shrugged, appearing unfazed.

Katniss and Jacqueline appeared out of the girls' locker room, fresh out of soccer practice. "Hey guys, what's going on?" Jacqueline greeted, looking at Peeta and Cato. Her eyes immediately widened at Cato, who was still clad in only his compression shorts. His body was wet from the whirlpool and as a result, droplets were still trickling down and he was dripping all over the hallway. "Well, umm..." She awkwardly looked away at the wall.

"Why are you practically naked right now?" Katniss asked, raising an eyebrow. Before waiting for an explanation from Cato himself, she turned to Peeta. "Why is he naked?"

"I was icing," Cato grumbled, wrapping the towel around his lower body.

"Wasn't Clove icing?" Jacqueline inquired, peering into the room. "Where is she?"

"Well, it's funny that you ask that..." Peeta started, and both girls turned to him. "So apparently, Cato over here was whirlpooling with Clove and somehow she was on top of him and Thresh walked in and said something and now Clove's gone and Marvel's out looking for her." He finished the story and held his breath, looking expectantly at the two girls.

Jacqueline's jaw dropped, horrified at the situation and almost embarrassed for her best friend. Katniss, on the other hand, narrowed her eyes and charged at Cato, ready to smack him with her raised hand. In a matter of two seconds, Peeta had successfully placed himself in front of Katniss, holding back the fiery brunette. "What the hell did you do?" she demanded an answer from Cato, who stood still and was still looking quite unaffected. Despite the facade, he had to admit Katniss was a little intimidating in her anger.

"Whoa, Kat, calm down. I'm sure he didn't mean to do anything," Peeta reasoned as he held her back.

"There has to be some sort of logical explanation for all of this," Jacqueline added, getting over her state of shock.

"I was sharing the whirlpool with her and she may have tripped trying to get out and fell on me and Thresh walked in and said something about her being her mother's daughter and then left and Clove ran out and shit," Cato said, essentially repeating the story.

"Oh my goodness, Clove," Jacqueline commented pitifully, shaking her head. "Well Marvel's with her now, so she'll be alright, I guess."

Cato scoffed. "What, are they fuck buddies or some shit?"

Katniss glared at him and Peeta attempted to stifle a laugh, looking down and coughing. "No man, it's Marvel. And it's Clove," he replied, chuckling. Jacqueline wrinkled her nose at the thought. Katniss groaned, slapping Peeta's arm over his laughing and rolled her eyes. "Sorry, it's funny," Peeta grinned sheepishly.

Cato raised an eyebrow, wondering what the hell it was with people in that town.

* * *

Marvel had broken out in a full sprint trying to catch up to Clove, who was already halfway across the parking lot when he had gotten out there. "Clove!" he called, but the short girl continued to walk in a brisk pace, so he sped up a little bit. It amazed him just how quickly she could move in crutches, but if anyone had speed, it was Clove. She had gotten into her car before he could catch up, but the engine hadn't started. He finally arrived at her car panting, before opening up the door to the passenger seat and climbing in, not waiting for an invitation.

The two sat in silence for awhile, Clove staring at her steering wheel. Marvel didn't dare say anything either, knowing Clove would talk when she was ready. "She wasn't a whore," Clove said, almost inaudibly, and Marvel was speechless in confusion for a few seconds. He immediately connected her statement. What did Clove's mom have to do with Cato?

"She wasn't," he said softly, as he watched her lip quiver. It was unnatural for Clove to ever be in a state of weakness. It was even more unnatural for her to talk about it. "Clove, what did Cato say?"

Clove shook her head. "Thresh," she corrected him, and Marvel raised an eyebrow, but immediately replaced his surprise with a worried look.

"He was there?"

She nodded her head stiffly. "I'm always going to be the drunk gold digger's daughter. I get it. I could handle it when she was here but she's gone now, Marvel. She's not fucking here and I'm not fucking invincible." The frustration was evident in her voice, and she bit her lip trying to fight off the tears.

"I know, Clo, I know," Marvel sighed, extending his long arms over the console to wrap the girl in an embrace.

He wanted to protect her. Clove was almost like his sister and he saw through her facade better than anyone else. Beneath the venom in her words and the intimidating aura she'd built was a wounded soul. Nobody knew the existence of the soul because that was how Clove wanted it.

And as he could feel the dampness seeping through his shirt, he knew she needed much more than him.

* * *

"Cato," Glimmer purred in between the connecting of their lips, before she pulled away. "You should go soon, my parents are coming home soon."

He groaned and ran a hand through his hair as she peeled herself off of him on the couch, pulling downhuer shirt that had ridden up. In any other occassion, Cato would have demanded to go much further but tonight he'd been distracted by one thought. "Where's Clove?"

Glimmer giggled. "Clove, my stepsister?" she asked incredulously before sniggering. "Who knows, who cares." She pulled out a cigarette pack and a lighter from her purse, extending the pack out to Cato. He looked at it and thought for a minute, wondering just how good Irene's sense of smell was on his clothes. _What the hell_, he thought, and took one out of the pack and stuck the cigarette between his lips, Glimmer doing the honors of lighting it.

It had been so long since he'd smoked anything, and the feeling released a surprising amount of tension coursing through his veins. As he watched the smoke form in front of him, his mind released thoughts that he'd been keen on suppressing. As he and Glimmer sat in silence, her leaning against his shoulder, his mind went back to Clove. The way she crumbled, the hurt in her eyes. He'd seen so many get hurt on a daily basis, and he couldn't quite understand why this one bothered him so much.

_Maybe because it was your fault_, a voice inside of him suggested. No. He had nothing to do with it.

The sound of a car approaching on their long driveway cause Glimmer to quickly get off Cato and put out the cigarette, but Cato's own reaction was delayed. After all, he had no idea what to do with the perfectly good cigarette in his hand.

The door opened, and the familiar brunette walked in, looking at the two sitting in the front sunroom.

"Oh, it's just you," Glimmer muttered, irritated that she'd disposed of her cigarette as she fished for another one in her purse.

"You're getting your smoke on the furniture," Clove noted wryly. "And your lungs don't need to be any weaker, QB, I've seen your sprints." She hardly made eye contact as she made her way into the kitchen on her crutches, leaving the two alone once more.

"She's such a bitch," Glimmer complained the moment her stepsister walked out, and Cato glanced at the cigarette in his hand.

He sighed. "She's right," he shook his head, handing the cigarette over to Glimmer who had no qualms with accepting it. Why he was listening to Clove he didn't know. She was, indeed, correct. Three years of solid partying had made him lose much of his endurance, but he wanted to prove the snarky girl wrong.

"Whatever," Glimmer pouted. "I'm gonna go finish this in my room, you know your way out, baby." She sauntered off and Cato watched her ascend, as she waved a goodbye disappearing into the second floor.

He got up to leave, but found himself looking at the illuminated kitchen. He shouldn't go. She would bite his head off, and yell and Glimmer would come down and wonder what the hell he was still doing there. All rational thought told him to leave, but Cato had never been one for rational thought.

He approached the kitchen, hearing a faint sizzling sound. As he stood at the entrance, he watched as Clove worked skillfully with the knife, slicing up vegetables with unbelievable speed. She pushed a stray strand away from her face with the back of her hand before returning to the food, and Cato couldn't tell if she really couldn't notice or if she was merely ignoring him.

His question was answered when he heard a sound from her. "Hungry?"

It took him a few minutes to register what she'd just asked him. He didn't even know how to respond. When people asked if their guests were hungry, it usually meant that they were offering them food. Cato was absolutely sure this wasn't the case. "Starving, actually," he replied, chuckling.

"Pizza rolls are almost done in the microwave if you want some," Clove shrugged, still not looking up as she started to cook to her vegetables, tending to the stove heat.

He raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you cooking?"

"For myself. But I figured you'd be here to irritate the shit out of me," Clove replied nonchalantly.

"Oh really. Why's that?" Cato asked, making himself seem disinterested as well as he approached the kitchen counter.

"You're predictable," she stated matter-of-factly.

"Am I?" he asked rhetorically, nearing her as she turned the stove off and poured the contents onto the plate, ending up with a delicious looking stir fry. As she made her way to the sink to wash her hands, he put both hands on the edge of the counter, trapping her in between his arms from behind. She turned around to see the boy inches away from her, the warmth of his breath close enough to feel. "Is this predictable?"

In a timely manner, the microwave dinged and Cato glanced at the source of the sound, enough for Clove to push an arm out of the way quickly. She picked up the plate she prepared and started walking away, before pausing to address his question. "Very much so," she smirked, and retreated to the second floor, leaving Cato alone and cursing under his breath.

There were no traces of the broken Clove, and he was still scoreless.

* * *

**A/N: hello hello! I'm so sorry this chapter was overdue. But here it is in all its glory! **

**Thank you all SO much for reviewing. You have no idea how much it means to me, especially knowing that I'm not completely failing at AU.**

**Still in search for a nice little cover photo, my dears! But I'm very patient, of course.**

**Plot-wise, we're going very slowly in the timeline but there are plenty of events coming up, believe me. I hear lots of talk of sports and parties... I'm aiming not to disappoint (:**

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**And do keep reviewing! I love you all!**

**Sincerely, Rina.**


	8. Chapter 8

Nothing could bring down Clove Kensington that day.

She took her first step out of bed, bootless, flexing and wriggling her toes as she jumped and tried to get a feel for her foot. The week of rehabilitation had been long and painful, and all she could think of was lacing up her cleats and stepping onto the field.

Yet she still had a full day of school to endure. Still, Clove couldn't complain-the life of being crippled was one she had no trouble letting go of, and she was almost to the point of dancing at the tips of her toes out of joy as she stepped onto the parking lot pavement, free of the vile objects she called crutches. A smile was on her lips as her stride lengthened and she enjoyed the feeling of being able to walk. Clove was on Cloud Nine, thinking happy thoughts about getting to kick the soccer ball for the first time in what seemed like forever.

"Clove, you're grinning like an idiot," a voice behind her said. She turned around to shoot a deadly glare, when she realized that it was just Jacqueline. Normally, she would have recognized the voice right off the bat-today, though, Clove's head wasa practically in the clouds. Getting through to her was futile.

"It's gone, Fox, I finally get to play again. Do you know how long it's been?" Clove pointed to her foot with such enthusiasm that Jacqueline laughed too. Clove got off on the strangest things.

"Yes, of course," Jacqueline giggled. "Coach Enobaria was getting so pissed at Delly, who can't be a striker worth a crap." Clove snickered. "Speaking of which... what happened yesterday?"

Clove raised an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?"

Jacqueline shot her a knowing glance. "We got out of practice and Cato's essentially naked in front of the training room. Which _you_ were in, if I recall correctly. And Peeta was there and apparently Marvel left, and... Clove? You mind telling me anything sometime?"

Clove grumbled. "I do mind. I really don't want to talk about it," she muttered. "Marvel can tell you. Or Peeta apparently. Or even fucking Cato Weston can tell you."

Jacqueline sighed. "Look, Clove. I know you're generally a pissy person, and I mean that in the nicest way possible. But what is it exactly that makes Cato the devil all of a sudden?"

Clove let out a frustrated sigh. "How are you not irritated with that arrogant douchebag? He thinks he can just do anything. To anyone."

"Clove," Jacqueline interjected. "We live in the Hamptons. Arrogant douchebags are seriously everywhere and you've handled them and scared them away with perfect ease." Her eyes widened at her sudden epiphany, and she gasped. "But you can't scare Cato away!"

Rolling her eyes at the dramatic statement, Clove hushed Jacqueline with her glare alone. "I can scare anyone away," she said arrogantly. "Cato is no different."

"Hmm, okay," Jacqueline said skeptically, knowing her friend was either completely wrong in her beliefs or terribly in denial.

* * *

Cato rushed into Mr. Abernathy's class, barely beating the late bell as he strode to his seat. He raised an eyebrow as he saw his seating partner, who he could have swore was smiling at her desk. _What the hell_, he thought. "Good morning, Kensington," he greeted, and the brunette looked up.

"Hmm?" she asked in a half-dazed tone, looking for the source of the noise. Here eyes fell upon Cato, and her facial expression instantly tensed. "Oh. You." She turned back to her desk and toyed with a pen, and Cato chuckled, taking his seat.

Mr. Abernathy took to his podium, starting his lecture on the parallel plots of King Lear as Cato drifted off into a half slumber, Clove taking notes diligently in her notebook.

He stayed in the same condition until he heard Mr. Abernathy start taking steps around the classroom, in which Cato snapped awake.

"You are to do an in depth character study," Mr. Abernathy started as he walked down an aisle of desks. "In partners."

"Madge," Clove hissed quickly. "Madge, partners?"

Madge turned around and smiled apologetically at Clove. The two had never been terribly close, and Clove's eagerness was surprising. "Sorry, dear, but Delly and I already agreed to be partners for the rest of the year."

Clove groaned, and Cato smirked. "Looks like you're stuck with me on this one. See you at your house after practice?"

Narrowing her eyes, she tried to fight through his smugness. "Stella has guests over for a party tonight," she said through clenched teeth. "Though we'd love to accommodate you since you come around so often, I think it's your turn now."

"My place?" Cato questioned. "Uh, hell no."

"Look, Weston, I don't like this thing a lot more than you do, so I'd appreciate it if you at least helped me get it over with as quickly as possible."

"Ouch, Kensington," Cato mocked. "Fine. My place." He wrote down the address on a scrap piece of paper and handed it to Clove, who balled it up in her fist and stuck it in her pencil bag. The bell rang and Cato stood up, picking up his bag. "See you after practice," he winked.

* * *

"Alright, boys, water break," Brutus barked, and the football team eagerly went to the sideline to quench their thirsts.

Cato bent over panting after a round of sprints and stood in line for water, and watched from afar as the girls' soccer team took the field, breaking from the huddle. Leading a pack of girls in red soccer jerseys was Clove, in her signature ponytail suited up in her soccer gear. The confident stride reminded Cato of a warrior going into battle, and as the ball was thrown into the field, Cato watched as Katniss passed the ball to Clove, who advanced towards the goal past the yellow jerseys.

In amazing speed, Clove managed to position herself to strike perfectly and kicked the ball, which sailed past the goalie's reaching arms and landed in the corner of the goal. The red jersey girls cheered and for the first time, Cato saw Clove unable to contain her happiness as she ran to her other teammates celebrating. He didn't even notice the smile that was forming on his face until someone's voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Damn, Weston likes his girls psycho and unattainable," one of his receivers joked. Finnick, if he remembered his name correctly.

Cato turned around, chuckling. "Unattainable? Just you wait, boys."

"Thought you had Glimmer?" Gale asked, breaking his usual silence.

Cato shrugged. "Who says you can't have 'em all, right?" he smirked, giving Gale a pat on the back before grabbing a drink.

* * *

Clove pulled up to the address that she found in her backpack, a nice, colonial establishment just off the oceanside. Parking the car right in front of the house, she slipped on a sweatshirt over her sports bra and made her way to the door.

After ringing the doorbell, she watched as an old woman opened the door, wearing an apron with an oven mitt in one hand. Clove put on her best friendly smile. "Hi! I'm looking for Cato?"

The woman smiled. "Oh, come in! He didn't tell me he was bringing any girls over, but I made some pie so you sit down while I call my grandson."

Clove nodded and took a seat in the living room, glancing around at various pictures. She found a few of a young Cato, and had trouble trying to stifle laughter.

She heard Cato descend down the steps as she watched Cato's grandmother retreat into the kitchen. "Oh, hey," Cato greeted, plopping down on the couch.

"Cato, dear, don't get too settled in, I made some pie!" his grandmother called, and Cato groaned. "I heard that, Cato Alexander."

Clove snickered, and stood up to head to the kitchen.

"I am so sorry, I never introduced myself," his grandmother smiled, cutting up a slice of what looked to be apple pie. "I'm Irene, Cato's grandmother."

"Clove," she smiled. "Clove Kensington."

"Oh, Mark and Tracy's daughter?" Irene asked. "I should have guessed on that one, Honey, you look so much like them. Especially like Tracy when you smile."

Clove let out a soft laugh, averting her gaze for a moment. "Thank you."

Irene nodded and clapped her hands together once. "Well, I'll leave you two alone to enjoy the pie and get on with your business. Homework, is it?"

"Yes, grandmother," Cato grumbled as Irene slid a plate in front of him and another for Clove.

Irene laughed. "Well I certainly knew you weren't his girlfriend, you're much too pretty," she commented, taking off her apron and proceeding to retreat upstairs.

As Clove took a fork to dig into the pie, she commented, "Your grandmother's a nice lady."

Cato raised an eyebrow. "What, no comment on how I'm related to such a sweet old woman?"

She shrugged, before swallowing the piece of pie she'd taken in. "Honestly, I'm just tired and really need to sleep. It's a little exhausting being in your presence."

Cato chuckled, knowing there was a mean comment in there somewhere as he continued to eat. Clove pulled out a notebook from the back pack she'd been carrying, and turned to a blank page while pulling out a handout from the folder.

"Okay. The in depth character study requires you to write about a character's tendencies and underlying psychological conflicts. It's recommended to find a character you most relate to, as it becomes much easier to predict their nature," Clove read aloud, furrowing her eyebrows. "Well. Luckily, this book is full of arrogant, prestige-hungry douchebags. Looks like you can relate."

"You're funny," Cato muttered. "Try Cordelia."

"Cordelia?" Clove repeated. "Cato, I know you probably haven't read the book but I at least think you should have assumed Cordelia was a girl."

"Not for me, genius," Cato replied. "You're Cordelia."

"Huh?" Clove asked, dumbfounded by his answer.

Cato laughed. "Think about it. You don't give a shit about what people say about you, even to the point where it alienates you." Clove raised an eyebrow an opened her mouth up to speak, but Cato raised a hand to signal his continuation. "You're stubborn as hell and you tell the blunt truth no matter how mad it gets people."

Clove crossed her arms and leaned back on the chair. "Please, continue. You know so much about me," she said sarcastically after getting over her initial shock of Cato having read the book.

"You don't care for having titles. Or the power or the money," Cato continued.

"Cordelia becomes the queen of France," Clove pointed out stubbornly.

"Only because she drove away all of the lesser men," Cato countered.

"You seem to be so sure of this theory," Clove rolled her eyes, then played with her fork and the remaining crumbs of the pie. "So tell me, Weston. Since you seem so eager to do this project. What is it that's Cordelia's downfall?"

Cato contemplated his answer for a few seconds. "Well," Cato began. "She's incredibly guarded. She takes risks but not for herself. You know, never does that YOLO shit. So it makes her seem freaking stuck up, which is why she ends up alone for awhile."

"Except she's with the king," Clove argued, then looked up. Cato had placed his elbow on the counter and was facing Clove, his face inches away from hers.

"Correct," Cato smirked, leaning in.

Clove froze for a few seconds, unable to grasp what was about to happen. When a hand of his made contact with her chin, she quickly snapped back into reality and quickly backed away. "Um," Clove cleared her throat and stood up, running a hand through her hair and tucking a strand behind her ear. "I have to go." She picked up her back and rushed out of the door, leaving Cato alone once again.

"Well, fuck Sparknotes," he muttered.

* * *

**a/n: AHHHH before you all kill me for my lack of updating, just know I was terribly busy this week! Sorry ): But I promise I'll start picking up once more. This chapter, we had Cato trying a different route. But his intentions are still impure... aren't they? (;**

**Anyway. Please please please keep reviewing! Tell me what you like, tell me what you don't like, tell me what you want to see! I take all of it into consideration!**

**Follow me on Tumblr, compliclato and I also run a Marvel ask blog, ask-marvizzle so get connected with me! (:**

**Much love, Rina!**


	9. Chapter 9

Irene walked back into the kitchen, her grandson sitting in the kitchen alone with a frustrated look on his face. She couldn't help but smile to herself at the sight, boring much resemblance to her own son when it came to failure. Neither of the Weston boys enjoyed not getting the outcome that they wanted. "She left so soon, I see," the old woman said, taking a seat on one of the chairs in front of the kitchen counter, slicing some pie for herself.

"Hmm, yeah," Cato muttered, not bothering to look up as he stared at the handout over the assignment that she had left. Naturally, he wasn't reading it, but he didn't want to engage in conversation with his grandmother over such a topic.

"You take a lot of interest in her, don't you?" Irene asked. "She's a special one."

"What are you talking about?" Cato asked flatly in an attempt to show disinterest. "It was a school project, grandma. Hold off on the wedding planning."

Irene let out a laugh at her grandson's abrasiveness. "Ahh, that's right. I talked to Stella today at a luncheon, and she believes you're with her daughter."

Cato's mind went on a red flag mode. "What?" He had a difficult time coming to terms with ever being _with_ somebody. Cato Weston was never with anybody. "Glimmer? Nope, absolutely not."

Nodding in understanding, Irene sighed before looking her grandson straight in the eyes. "Cato, dear," she started, in a sage tone that was molded from many years of professional speaking. "Your parents' relationship is no indication of how all relationships will be. Especially not if you find someone willing to be with you for the right reasons."

"Yeah, okay, grandma," Cato shrugged her words off, looking back down at the paper in front of him. Irene exited the room, leaving her grandson back to his silence, though his mind was most definitely loud.

He took interest in Clove, of course. She gave Cato a challenge that he enjoyed, the thrill of the pursuit that he always looked for whenever he went. Every girl he'd met so far had been so conquerable, it was almost getting boring until she came along. But he certainly wasn't planning on being with her, or any other implications that her grandmother seemed to have drawn out of the whole picture. Traditional relationships were for idiots, in his book at least. He watched his parents' struggle with constant infidelity and spitefulness, and much of that led to his lack of a belief in love.

He was going to take a break from Clove—to strategize and figure out his game plan, and he most certainly wasn't going to stop until she was another figurative notch on his bedpost.

* * *

Clove planned on telling no one of what happened the previous night. Because it didn't happen. Cato Weston did not try to kiss her, and she did not sit there for a few seconds and almost let it happen. No, that was all a horrible dream. She contemplated telling someone, but only imagined their reactions. Jacqueline would have gasped and died of shock but yelled at her about how right she was that Cato was interested. Katniss would have checked for signs of a concussion, and she expected a similar reaction from Gale. It would have taken Peeta about ten minutes to wrap his head around it, then make constant jokes

The first game was coming up and she told herself that was all she needed to focus on—no distractions. No Cato, no Thresh, no Glimmer. Only long afternoons and evenings of training and getting ready. It was her senior year, and college scouts were looking left and right—she needed to capture their attention and assure them that she was a serious athlete.

She heard the seat next to her become occupied, lightly surprised that she had not received a usual greeting from her seat partner. It was most definitely a peculiar anomaly, but she didn't dare question the good thing that was happening to her. Still, she realized that she had to talk to him sometime and tell him that she wrote the in-depth character study, because she was almost positive that he didn't.

"I wrote the character study," she finally said, breaking the weird silence.

He turned to her and raised an eyebrow, then realized what she'd just said. "Oh. Cool," he responded shortly, before pulling out his phone and scrolling through his apps. Clove rolled her eyes at the lack of gratitude from the boy, but retreated to her own work, getting ready to listen to Mr. Abernathy's lectures.

If he didn't want to engage in even the most civil conversations, she was most definitely fine with that. In fact, she was ecstatic.

Madge turned around to talk to her with a few minutes left to spare before class started. "We're throwing Marvel a surprise early birthday party," she whispered loudly to them. At the Lilly beach estate. Are you guys coming?"

Clove gave a noncommittal shrug. She'd never been one to particularly engage in parties, especially not ones thrown by Cashmere and Gloss Lilly. Those two, paired with Glimmer, were most likely the most pretentious, arrogant students in Panem. It was likely that the party wasn't even for Marvel, but the event did give them an excuse to hold an enormous festivity-not like their parents cared, of course. They were most likely gone somewhere in a fashion week in some country halfway across the world.

Cato, however, had no trouble accepting the invitation. "Yeah, sure," he replied.

"Clove, it's Marvel's birthday. I know you hate parties but I know Marvel would really appreciate it," Madge said sweetly. Why she even hung out with the crowd was beyond Clove-Madge was easily one of the kindest people around, but Clove figured the Mayor's daughter status forced her into a life of being in the upper echelon.

"Fine," Clove muttered as Mr. Abernathy strode into class.

* * *

"Hold still, Clove!" Jacqueline scolded the shorter girl, sculpting curls in her hair that cascaded down the back.

"I really don't see why any of this is necessary," Clove whined, crossing her arms as she sat on the chair in front of Jacqueline's vanity.

"Would it kill you to look decent? Just for one night? Do it for Marvel!" Jacqueline countered her protests, finishing the look with a copious amount of hairspray. "Alright, now stand up!"

Clove groaned, and stood up in the outfit that Jacqueline had dressed her in. It was a black, tight fitting short sleeved dress that came mid-thigh, paired with a statement colorful bib necklace. "I'm barely going to get to move in this," Clove grumbled as she slipped on a pair of nude pumps unhappily.

"You don't have to," Jacqueline said cheerily, flouncing in her own blue romper and dragged her best friend by the hand. "Let's go, Katniss is waiting for us downstairs."

They hopped into Katniss's silver convertible and made their way to the Lilly beach mansion, the biggest property on the beach in Southampton. The festivities were apparently already in session, as people scattered around the seaside and in the house, visible from the large glass windows that encompassed many of the rooms.

The three girls walked up to the door and were greeted immediately by the birthday man himself, dressed in a dark blue suit and a white dress shirt. "Ladies!" the charismatic Marvel greeted. Jacqueline and Katniss took their turns hugging the celebrant and when Marvel got to the shortest girl, he paused and stared at her. "Holy shit, Clove, two dresses in one month? Trying to impress me?" He winked playfully, and Clove rolled her eyes and shoved him playfully.

"Happy birthday, Stone," Clove laughed and gave her best friend a hug.

"Seen Peeta?" Katniss asked, and Marvel shrugged.

"He should be by the pool with Gale," Marvel replied, shrugging. Katniss nodded in thanks, and she and Jacqueline headed over in that direction. Clove, about to walk off with them, was stopped by Marvel grabbing an arm of hers. "Uhh, Clove, there's something I should tell you about the guest list."

Clove raised an eyebrow, then replied, "Oh, I know Cato's here. And I figured Thresh would be. I mean, this place is like, three hundred of your closest friends."

Marvel chuckled, then shook his head. "Actually, uhh... the problem is approaching us right now. Keep your body turned towards me and maybe he won't see you."

_What could he possibly be talking about? _Clove thought, but her question was soon answered. "Clove! Didn't expect to see you here, striker," a voice said and she immediately turned around, eyes widening. "And hey, happy birthday, Marv." In front of her was Luke Maximillian, the gorgeous, brown-haired and tanned state champion quarterback from the neighboring town of East Hampton.

Also known as Clove's only ex-boyfriend.

"Hey buddy," Marvel said, flashing his signature smile.

"L-luke," Clove stammered, unable to form coherent sentences. "What...what are you doing here?"

Luke let out a laugh. "I got the invite from Cashmere," he replied, running a hand through his short brown hair. "You look... great."

Clove let out a nervous laugh. "Thanks. Umm. You too." The tough facade that Clove had kept up so often had come down completely, and she scolded herself repeatedly for it in her head. It was just Luke. Just Luke. Just Luke. She kept repeating it to herself, as she tried to focus on the conversation at hand.

"Marvel! Shots, man, c'mon!" Some random male voice from the deck called for Marvel, who shot a worried glance at Clove, unwilling to leave her in her discomfort. Clove nodded at him in reassurance, gesturing that she was going to be okay.

"Well... party calling. I'll leave you guys alone..." Marvel trailed off, and headed to the deck where he was greeted by cheers.

They fell into a silence for a short amount of time, before Luke broke it. "I heard you were injured."

"Yeah," Clove replied quickly. "It wasn't anything big, I just had to walk in an air cast for a few days. High ankle sprain."

Luke chuckled. "Those aren't a lot of fun... but I'm glad to see that you've found a nice substitute to the air cast." He nodded at her stilettos, and Clove let out a genuine laugh.

"Jacqueline's doing," she explained, and Luke nodded in understanding.

* * *

Cato's vision caught sight of Clove in her black dress as he, Peeta and Gale leaned against the railing of the deck, beer in hand. He had managed to escape from Glimmer for a few moments as she drank with Cashmere and Gloss, and was relieved at the event. He expected Clove to come out with Katniss and Jacqueline, but no such luck. He expected her, once again, to join them when Marvel came out, yet still there was no sign of the girl.

And then he saw her. There, in her black dress, talking to a guy he didn't recognize. He surely didn't go to Panem and if he did, he didn't play on the team. As he continued watching the two engage in conversation, he found himself doing a double take as he watched Clove laugh. She laughed. And it didn't even seem like a sarcastic, venomous laugh. It was a legitimate laugh. He wasn't jealous, he told himself. He was only mad that some asshole was getting in the way of his goal.

"Peeta,"

"Hm?"

"That guy Clove's talking to. Who is he?"

Peeta scanned around the crowd and followed Cato's gaze through the glass window and spotted the two, both of his eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Hm, I didn't expect him to be here." Cato looked at Peeta expectantly for an explanation. "Oh. That's Luke Maximillian. He goes to East Hampton, and he's the quarterback of their state champion team. I guess if you didn't know him, you would eventually." Peeta nudged at Gale. "Dude, look who's here."

Gale followed both of their lines of sight, seeing Clove and Luke. "Shit. What's that douchebag doing talking to Clove? I thought she was with Marvel."

Peeta laughed and nodded at the intoxicated Marvel, enjoying every single shot he was taking. "Was being the key word."

"Someone needs to get rid of that asshole," Gale muttered.

"Why?" Cato asked, intrigued by the bigger man's hostility towards Luke.

Peeta sighed, knowing he was usually the one responsible for the explanations. "After Clove's mom died, Luke kind of dumped Clove. Needless to say, she took it real hard. All of it. Her mom and Rue dying, Luke leaving, all that. I mean, she was pessimistic before, but now she's a lot more guarded ever since all of it happened," Peeta explained, then looked back at the two. "But Luke's one hell of a sweet talker. I mean, look at him just working Clove like that."

Cato watched as Clove laughed one more time at something the other guy said, and then took a swig of his beer. He wasn't going to let some douche ruin his fun. "Well, time to interrupt their party," he announced to the other two, who both looked at him like he was crazy as he walked towards the house.

Peeta looked at Gale. "Dude. Shit's about to hit the fan," Peeta laughed.

"Yep," Gale agreed, as they both took another drink, knowing nothing good was going to come out of it all.

* * *

**A/N: Thank you for all the reviews! We're about to hit 100 and I'm so excited!**

**So I decided to grant a few requests (: Clove's ex? Check. Cato's jealous? Check. Party? I got it. And the football games are about to start so expect more of that in the future (;**

**So yeah. Cato's about to stick himself in between Clove and Luke, because he's a little shithead like that. Hahaha. Anyway. Some details about the party: You will find Clove's outfit if you google "Isabelle Fuhrman Marie Claire", it's the solid black dress. I thought of Mark Reardon (Alexander Ludwig's friend) when I was envisioning Luke, but if you think of some other celebrity, feel free to use that in your head! (: But he is terribly good looking.**

**Why do you think Luke and Clove broke up? I'd love to know your theories.**

**Tell me what you like, what you don't like, what you want to see, who you want to see. I take them all to heart. I love you all!**

**Follow me on tumblr, compliclato or my Marvel ask blog, ask-marvizzle.**

**Much love, Rina!**


	10. Chapter 10

Things were going extremely well that night. Too well, Clove knew. Something undesirable was bound to happen, because that's how the universe worked. She knew that better than anyone else.

But while she was talking to Luke, she couldn't help but feel like tonight would be an exception. She cursed herself mentally for the weird, girly feeling that was starting to seep into her gut. This wasn't how she was supposed to feel, especially not in the presence of her ex-boyfriend.

Still, she couldn't help but relish in the niceness of the moment. It was the eighteenth birthday of one of her best friends, Glimmer and her friends hadn't tormented her yet, and even Cato Weston hadn't made an appearance.

Well, that was what she thought until she saw, of course, Cato himself walking towards them, beer in hand.

"Hey guuuys," Cato drawled, stopping in front of the two, wearing black dress pants, a black dress shirt and a gunmetal grey suit jacket. Clove glared at Cato, suspecting traces of intoxication. Little did she know, however, that Cato was about as sober as drunk got. It took a lot for the big guy to feel much of anything when it came to alcohol. "What's up, Clover?" he grinned, and Clove could only roll her eyes.

"Luke, this is Cato Weston," Clove said, turning to her ex-boyfriend as Cato stuck his hand out. "And Cato, this is Luke Maximillian."

"What's up, man," Luke said coolly, flashing his own grin. For some reason, Cato felt the anger rising up in him when Luke seemed much too smug for his liking. How was the guy around Clove with such comfort? "New here?"

Cato nodded, keeping his posture confident. "From Manhattan to this hellhole." Clove tried not to roll her eyes once more. Only the spoiled, arrogant and pretentious asshole that was Cato Weston would call the Hamptons a hellhole.

Luke, on the other hand, chuckled. "It's not that bad," he attempted to justify, then put on a boyish grin. "At least not this side of it since you do have the prettier girls." He winked at Clove, who shoved his arm lightly in protest over the cheesy compliment. There was something distinctly different about her attempt at conveying annoyance, though. It was certainly different from the way she groaned at Cato's comments, and he took much notice to that. "Anyway. I'll let you two alone for a little bit, gonna go grab a drink. Clove, you need one?" She shook her head, rejecting the offer.

As Luke walked away, Clove instantly returned her infuriated glare at Cato. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"What are you talking about? Figured I'd introduce myself to Mr. State Champion," Cato replied smugly, feigning innocence.

"How did you know…" she trailed off, realizing there was only one way Cato would know about Luke. Her eyes scanned the crowd before they landed on Peeta and Gale outside of the window on the deck, the two failing to look like they weren't watching. Clove smiled sarcastically at them, giving a fake wave before putting all her fingers down but her middle.

Cato let out an amused laugh. "I'm sorry, was I… interrupting something between you two?" he asked suggestively.

"Hmm, you're funny," Clove shot back. "And what if you were, anyway? Not that it's any of your business."

Cato shrugged, unfazed. "I do what I want," he said arrogantly, before taking another drink of his beer. "Having a dry night?" He asked, holding up his bottle.

"Beer tastes like shit," Clove replied simply.

"Always the buzzkill, aren't you," Cato commented and Clove shot him another look.

"Better than being a shitfaced mess," she pointed out.

Cato laughed and shook his head in amusement. "You don't have to be shitfaced to be drunk," he countered. He did have a point. "Besides. Maybe that's pretty boy's type."

Clove raised an eyebrow. "Pretty boy? You're one to talk."

"I'm just saying," Cato shrugged, glancing at the kitchen. He spotted Luke, standing as he talked to Glimmer, who was dressed in a tight, nude-colored dress that night. She was running a finger on Luke's chest flirtatiously while the tall boy held a drink in one hand and kept his other hand in his pocket. Normally, Cato would have been possessive. After all, Glimmer had been his toy for a few weeks now. "Looks like he's enjoying your sister dearest."

"What?" Clove turned to where Cato was looking as she watched her stepsister toy around with Luke. Her face turned even more pale than it usually was, and her jaw dropped only in the slightest before she tried to recollect herself. _Pull it together, Clove._

"You wanna make them jealous?" Cato asked suggestively, slowly stepping towards her before she looked back in his direction.

It took Clove a few seconds to register Cato's question as she turned around. "What are you talk-" she started to say, but was interrupted by the touch of Cato's hands to her cheeks and the collision of their lips.

Clove instantly tensed up, her body unable to follow her mind's loud orders to pull away. The petrified state of Clove did not go unnoticed to Cato, who took advantage of the absence of her protest and the slight part of her lips for his tongue to make an entrance. His hands found her loose curls, and his fingers ran through the strands before they lingered down her arms. As he enjoyed the taste of her lips in what seemed like hours, he laced his fingers with hers knowing full well that her first instinct afterwards would be physical aggression-a punch or a slap, he learned, was her go-to gesture.

As he pulled away finally with a smirk, he took a look at her expression, predicting one of absolute loathing.

He found the anger that he'd expected, but he could have sworn he could see traces of fear and vulnerability.

* * *

From the deck, Jacqueline and Katniss had found Gale and Marvel, who were having alcohol over mindless chatter. "Hey guys, what's up?" Katniss asked, mounting herself on the deck railing beside Peeta as she held a bottle of hard lemonade.

"Aren't you the DD?" Peeta asked, spotting her drink.

Katniss laughed, shaking her head. "I don't think there's a chance of Clove getting drunk."

"Speaking of Clove," Gale interjected. "Luke Maximillian was talking to her earlier. The douche has returned."

Jacqueline laughed. "He wasn't _that_ bad," she protested, scanning the crowd for either Clove or her ridiculously attractive ex boyfriend. "And, anyway, how could he not talk to her when she looked like... oh my god." She stopped, her eyes widening when she spotted was going on in the living room.

"What?" Peeta asked, following Jacqueline's gaze, his jaw dropping. "Either I'm really, really drunk or Clove is... making out with Cato? And guys, I swear, I've only had like, two beers."

Gale and Katniss instantly turned to where the other two were looking, Katniss almost choking on her drink and Gale in utter shock. "What the... fuck?" Gale muttered the words that was on all four minds.

* * *

Cato felt Clove's hand tear away from his, presumably about to raise it to strike, and he quickly grabbed onto her wrist, keeping it still. His face was still inches from hers, close enough to hold a soft conversation unheard by anyone's attention that they'd caught. A good portion of the room had seen the kiss, surprised too by both parties involved. "Before you punch me," he said in a hoarse whisper. "Your lover's staring. You should think about thanking me instead."

Clove regained her venom at the sound of Cato's words, and narrowed her eyes. "Thank you? You want me to thank you? Half the room probably thinks I'm a whore now," she hissed.

Cato smirked. "Or just someone who made out with an extremely attractive guy."

Clove rolled her eyes at his arrogance before hearing Luke's voice. "Clove?" he asked, and she quickly retrieved her hands from Cato's grasp, straightening her hair out with her palms. "Did I... interrupt something? I didn't know you guys were dating." He turned and shot an apologetic glance at Cato. "Sorry, man."

"We're not," Clove corrected him quickly, before realizing she would have to further explain herself. "We're just... Uhm..." She could see Cato's smirk growing wider and much more smug, wanting to jump at him and beat his skull into a pulp.

"Tell me what's going on here, Clover," another voice emerged, this one belonging to a Glimmer with a hand on her hip, infuriated by the scene she just witnessed. "Do explain to all of us what just happened, especially the part where you were making out with my boyfriend."

Cato's smirk immediately disappeared. "Boyfriend? Hold on one minute. What the fuck?" he said, interrupting the attention to Clove.

Glimmer instantly reddened at Cato's reaction, faking a smile at both Luke and Cato. "Cato, honey, I think you've had a little much to drink," she said sweetly, and ironically with a slight slur in her voice.

Luke's face turned to one full of confusion, and he cleared his throat. "Uhh... well. I'm just gonna go.. because. Well. I just gotta go." He turned on his heel and headed in the direction of the front entrance as Clove stood for a few seconds, trying to take in the events that had just unfolded in front of her.

Upon realizing that Luke was walking away with a completely wrong misconception, she started to go after him in a hurried walk. "Luke, wait," she protested, as she passed the front door and called out his name while he descended down the long front steps of the Lilly beach mansion.

He turned around. "What the hell is going on, Clove?" he asked. "We break up because you decided we're going too damn fast for you and now you're onto making out with your sister's boyfriend."

"Luke, it's not that. It's... It's complicated. And Cato..." she said, stumbling on her words. How was she supposed to convey "_I'm not dating the guy who wants to screw every girl but I made out with him to make you jealous, except I didn't have a choice really_"?

"Forget it, Clove," Luke said, shaking his head as he continued down the steps and took his keys out of his pocket, not willing to look back despite whatever Clove said.

But she didn't say anything. She stood there, frozen once more, before she sat down on the front steps and took a few deep breaths, controlling any release of tears. She was Clove Kensington. She had gone through way too much on her own to let it make her cry.

* * *

"You want to explain yourself?" A seething Glimmer asked Cato, her arms crossed.

Cato shrugged. "Doesn't need an explanation."

"I told you we were supposed to be exclusive, on the first day of school, Cato," Glimmer hissed.

Cato raised an eyebrow, not recalling at all when she would have said such an absurd statement and why he didn't protest. And then he remembered. He was a little occupied. "I don't do commitments, princess," he grumbled.

"Ugh, whatever. Have fun getting laid tonight," she spat back. "It's too bad my stepsister's a psycho prude." She turned around on her heel and started walking away.

Cato rolled his eyes. "Glimmer, come on," he groaned.

* * *

"Clove, are you alright?" A familiar voice asked, and Clove turned around. "Looked like a mess from what I saw." Jacqueline plopped down beside her.

"Long story," Clove mumbled, not wanting to explain the whole thing right then.

"Fair enough," Jacqueline shrugged. "What was it like kissing Cato?" she asked playfully, with a grin on her face. "I mean, you didn't pull away and I swear we were staring at you for a good three minutes."

Clove groaned. "That wasn't my choice," she protested, and sighed. "The ever so generous Cato Weston decided that I needed to make Luke jealous so he kind of invaded my mouth."

Jacqueline let out a laugh over Clove's description of the event. "So Cato voluntarily kissed you?" she asked.

"I think you're missing the point here, Fox," Clove replied stubbornly. "As in, where I involuntarily made out with Captain Asshole in front of a good portion of the student population."

Her best friend shook her red head stubbornly. "No no no, Clove Isabelle, I think you're the one missing the point," she chortled. "Cato Weston kissed you. In front of everyone. Including his girlfriend... or whatever the hell she is."

"Your point?" Clove asked, rolling her eyes and almost cringing at the recollection of the memory.

"He's interested in you, Clove. Enough to abandon Glimmer at least, for those ten minutes," Jacqueline replied simply. "Clove. You know I'm never wrong about people. Everyone's like an open book."

"Whatever," Clove muttered, stubbornly ignoring Jacqueline's spotless record when it came to people-reading. Did she want Jacqueline to be right? It was either Cato Weston was genuinely interested, or she was just another game to him.

She didn't know what was worse.

* * *

**A/N: I know, I know, this update is long overdue. So sorry! Anyway, how'd you like the chapter? (: Thoughts? Questions? Comments? What did you like? What did you dislike? TELL ME ALL ABOUT IT.** **I love seeing gigantic reviews. Well, I like seeing all reviews in general. Follow me on tumblr! "compliclato" or my ask blog, "ask-marvizzle".**

**selcy-morimoto: Good question, haha. I mostly just sit around and just come up with them out of the blue. I can't really say they're from a specific source.**

**Guest - terrific insight. You'll learn that Glimmer is a lot more deep as an antagonist than she comes off to be, in time. I like where you're headed though (: As for the outfits, I don't know if I'd go as far as Polyvoring them, but I do enjoy creating outfits in my head because I am HUGE on fashion.**

**Thank you all for all of the positive feedback! I love you guys, keep reading and reviewing!**

**- Rina**


	11. Chapter 11

As the moonlight crept through the curtains of Glimmer Joyce's bedroom, Cato kept his stare fixated on the ceiling, breathing steadily while the girl beside him was still in her deep sleep. The pristinely decorated room had transformed into a jungle of scattered clothing, and the autumn breeze blowing through the cracked window provided small relief for Cato's bare torso. He hardly ever stayed for the morning after, but he always made sure to sleep for a few hours. His early rising habits had done him well for the past few years of commitment-free nights.

Tonight was different, though. Tonight, he could barely get himself to sleep-no matter how much he exhausted himself in taking out his aggression while the other confused it with passion. All that invaded his mind was the flicker of fear and vulnerability he had seen in a girl's eyes. A girl who had somehow ravaged his thoughts lately, though she had no idea. Cato always had an unparalleled curiosity-he liked to know how things worked. What made people tick. And it frustrated Cato to the ends of his mind that he could not completely figure out Clove Kensington.

The minute hand neared the second hour past midnight, and the pursuit of sleep was futile. Trying not to awaken his old conquest, he got up and managed to find his garments in the lowest of light, settling to leave his dress shirt unbuttoned and the suit jacket thrown over his shoulder. He knew of the smallest sounds echoing through the silent hallways, and made his way down to the first story in best attempted stealth. Out of the moonlit house, the illumination of the television drew him in, and he walked to the source of light out of interest. The smallest noise of music was emitted from the television, and the computer generated imaging was one that Cato was extremely familiar with-Madden 2012 was still on its main menu, evident that someone had been playing with it not too long ago. As his eyes surveyed the large, surrounding living room, they fell upon a sleeping figure curled up on the white leather sofa. In the most peaceful state she'd ever been in, Clove lay in a state of slumber, her breathing quiet but evident in the subtle rising and falling of her back. Gone was the tight fitting dress that had perfectly wrapped her curves, and instead was an oversized sweatshirt and a pair of yoga pants; she looked much more like Clove in attire, but not in expression. The facial muscles that usually conveyed anger were instead relaxed as her eyelids were eased shut, her hand under her cheek for a pillow  
Cato didn't know why he was watching. Why he was standing there for two minutes, just gazing at the sight he had stumbled upon. And why he obeyed to his urge of slowly picking her up and carrying her up the steps, the smaller girl not stirring as she somehow fell comfortably cradled into his arms. He carried the lightweight girl with ease as he ascended back to the second story, before realizing out of the six bedrooms in the house, he hadn't ever figured out which was Clove's.  
He heard the sound of a doorknob turning, and almost dropped the girl in surprise before squinting to see who it was he would have to explain the entire scene to. Out of the other end of the hallway through double doors emerged Mark, clad in sweatpants and a t-shirt, appearing to also be looking at the figure on the opposite end of the hallway. Seeing the younger quarterback hold what appeared to be his sleeping daughter and the subtle look of confusion on the boy's face, he nodded in understanding and signaled the door at the other door at the end of the hallway. Cato nodded back, freeing one of his hands to turn the doorknob before using the back of his shoulder to push the door open.  
He was greeted by maroon walls, shelves lined with trophy after trophy and a large bed which he slowly laid a sleeping Clove in, careful not to stir her to avoid an awkward predicament. As she took to her pillow comfortably, he breathed a soft sigh of relief, pushing away his mind's questioning of what exactly he had just done. He took a few moments to glance around her room, straining to see the smaller, less noticeable details. On her mirror were pictures wedged into the sides-a beautiful woman who looked just like her-jet black hair and a strikingly angular face-embracing a younger, sweaty Clove in a soccer jersey wearing a smile as big as Texas. She held a trophy that, Cato assumed, was somewhere on the shelves, and for some reason, the corners of his lips were starting to twitch upwards ate the sight of the photograph. His gaze moved further down to the next picture, one of her wedged in between that Jacqueline girl and Marvel in front of the highschool; it had to have been taken freshman year, judging from their uncanny youth.  
The last picture, however, caught the most interest, sitting right on top of the vanity. Clove and another familiar man and a little girl were standing among a sea of people, drenched in sweat with racing numbers pinned to their shirts. He looked at the dark man beside her, sharing a happy smile as well. Thresh. The little girl in front of them bore some resemblance to Thresh, and Cato assumed that was the little sister that Peeta had mentioned earlier. He furrowed his eyebrows in slight confusion and intrigue, before hearing Clove shift on her bed and deciding his stay was long overdue. Making absolutely no sound, he exited the room and descended the stairs once more, picking up the suit jacket he'd left in the living room.  
"Weston," Mark called from the now lit-up kitchen as Cato walked to the front door.  
The boy stopped and turned on his heel, back into the kitchen to face his addresser. "Uh, hey Mark," Cato greeted the older man gruffly. He seemed to be constructing a peanut butter and jelly sandwich at the early hour, and Cato raised an eyebrow.  
"Early flight to go speak at a gala," Mark explained, chuckling as he read Cato's expression. "What's your excuse? My house, after all."  
Cato searched around for a logical, wholesome explanation-leaving out how he had just finished bedding his stepdaughter and then putting his biological one in bed. There was no way to make that sound completely normal. "Uhh. Party. Crashed here for a little bit."  
Mark glanced up at Cato. "Glimmer asleep?" he asked, putting the two slices of bread together before cutting the crusts off. The question implied that Mark knew of the... activities that Cato had partaken in the Kensington household.  
"Yeah, she is," Cato mumbled. There was something unusual about talking to Mark Kensington, legendary quarterback, about how he just had sex with his new daughter. Cato often displayed no discomfort in situations, but an exception seemed to be emerging.  
Mark nodded. "So. My daughter. Do you care about her?" he asked bluntly.  
"Y-yeah," Cato stammered, then gulped. "I mean, Glimmer's a wonderful, wonderful girl and-"  
He was interrupted by Mark's chuckle and the shaking of his head. Cato looked at him in confusion and offense, "Not that one. The one you carried to bed."  
The question went from difficult to nearly impossible. On one hand, Cato could say he hardly knew her to care, which held a partial truth. In a sense, he did hardly know her. On the other hand, he could say he cared-but he didn't know how accurate that was either. He wanted to break Clove, to conquer the fortress that she'd so aggressively put up. Did that count as caring about someone? He settled for a vague middle ground. "Yeah, I guess, she's... nice." he managed to croak out.  
After taking a bite of his sandwich, Mark laughed and shook his head. "She has the aggression of a Doberman, son," he joked. "She's like her mother. Doesn't deal well with letting new people in her life." Cato nodded in understanding, unsure of how to respond to the unfamiliar comparison. Saving him from more thinking, Mark continued. "She interests you, doesn't she?"  
He looked at Mark once again, mumbling a low "Yeah, sure." Never had Cato Weston been subjected to a deep talk with his own father, let alone someone else's.  
"Tracy was the same way," Mark commented through his eating. "Want some unsolicited advice?" Cato opened his mouth to answer, but Mark continued once more. "Well, I'm going to give it to you anyway. When you get interested, you start feeling. And that can be good and it can be bad. But don't ruin what you have before you know what it is yet."  
"Uhh... no idea what that means," Cato answered. "But thanks Mark. Appreciate it.  
Mark laughed and shook his head. "Well. I gotta head out. You take care, son," he said after leaving the dish in the sink and patting Cato on the back. He watched Mark pick up a bouquet of flowers from the kitchen counter, quick to the assumption that Mark was going to visit a mistress at that time of the night. His childhood idol having an affair? That had to be the weirdest night in his life.  
As he left and trailed the black SUV driven by Mark, he turned to the direction of his own house and, much to his surprise, Mark was still in front. Cato was not a master at geography, but he knew the airport was the other way. It was only when Mark's vehicle turned into St. John's Cemetery that Cato realized those flowers were, indeed, for another woman. Mark Kensington was visiting his wife.

* * *

Clove woke up in her room, much to her confusion. She remembered falling asleep after a third game of Jets vs. Giants on Madden, and she couldn't recall ever making the long walk upstairs and crashing into her bed. She had opened her eyes in the middle of the night, seeing faint figures of a man in her room but she pegged it to be a remnant of her dream. After all, security at the Kensington household was excellent, and her entire family was home. The exhaustion had kept her from being so curious that late at night, and a few hours later, she laced up her shoes still unsure as she hit the pavement on her run.  
That day's route led her two miles across town to the high school sports complex, where she voluntarily sought out punishment in running the stadium steps. After a long run and complete silence in her mind, she'd arrived at the stadium to find that she wasn't alone. Taking laps around the stadium track was the boy she'd come to recognize so well already, though she'd never pegged him for a self-endurance work out athlete. The impatient, short-tempered and reckless Cato Weston was not the type.  
She ran up the steps of the stadium bleachers, hoping to go unnoticed as she kept her headphones plugged in, the steady, rapid beat of her music pulsing through her ears.  
From the corner of his eye, Cato saw the long black ponytail of the familiar girl flounce up the steps and smirked through his ragged breaths. It seemed as if fate was just pushing Clove into his life in small increments, and he definitely planned to take advantage.  
He finished one final lap around the track before making his way up the steps, water bottle in hand as he lifted his shirt to wipe the excess sweat trickling down his forehead. Clove saw the approaching blonde waiting at the end of the last stair and groaned as she neared him inevitably.  
"Morning, Kensington," he greeted the girl, who took off her headphones as she finished her descent down the last step, panting.  
"Finally deciding you needed some endurance?" she asked snarkily, and Cato let out a laugh encased in his smirk.  
"Do you ever stop with the bitchiness?" he countered, and she crossed her arms, shoulders still reflecting her dire need for oxygen.  
"Was a harmless question," she shrugged, pressing her palms against the bleacher railings and stretching out her calves. Of course, performing this action meant attracting Cato's eyes to the curve of her spandex-clad backside, but he quickly looked up when she continued to talk. "Besides. I'm looking out for the team."  
"Run with me then."  
"What?" she asked, dumbfounded by the question.  
"Run. With. Me," he repeated, enunciating slowly. "The stadium steps. First one who quits loses."  
Clove crossed her arms with a look of confidence. In no way would she lose to Cato in terms of endurance, considering their completely contrasting lifestyles. "Fine."  
"When I win, I expect a reenactment of last night," Cato winked, before taking off up the stairs. Clove rolled her eyes as she kept up the same pace as him, ascending the first steps with ease in her breath. "So you enjoy forcing your tongue into people's throats?" She commented wryly, keeping her eyes fixated on the steps.  
He let out a laugh through his short breaths. "Occasionally," he replied curtly. "Not like the enjoyment wasn't two way."  
She scoffed. "You have clearly misunderstood me again, Weston."  
"Didn't see you pulling away," he pointed out, glancing at her a quick second before running across a bleacher row to get to the next ascension of steps, Clove trailing by a bare step.  
She opened her mouth to speak, though she was unable to come up with a sufficient answer. Dammit Clove, why didn't you pull away, she cursed herself once more. Looking away from the steps for a moment, she shot him the most fierce glare she could muster up, all while her foot caught the top of the step, causing her to fall forward into the metal bleacher.  
As she attempted to break her fall with her arms, someone else's had grabbed both sides of her torso, causing Clove to instinctively wriggle out of its grasp. The arms belonged to Cato, and though they'd managed to prevent her body from meeting the stairs in an unpleasant collision, her initial resistance led to her head meeting the edge of the bleacher beside her, a small clunking sound providing evidence. "Oww, fuck," Clove cursed, still being held by Cato's arms. He had impressed even himself with his quick reflexes, lunging forward to catch the falling Clove. Why he did it, though, he had no clue.  
At the few seconds that had surpassed, Clove didn't quite understand what was going on. She fell, but she made no contact with the steps like she'd braced for. Instead, she had a throbbing pain in her head and looked down at the firm hold on her stomach, seeing the large forearms wrapped around her at either side. She shifted her body and craned her neck to glance up at Cato, surprised that his face was inches away from hers as he continued to hold the girl in a plank position. "You okay?" he asked huskily.  
Her stare met his icy blue eyes, overwhelmed for once by the amount of intensity. She found herself unable to speak out, forcing a small nod. The attention that Cato commanded was one she hadn't before experienced in a person-much like standing close to the sun, trying not to burn. "Yeah, I'm fine," she managed to croak out, as he eased her down onto the steps so she could sit down.  
A smirk crept back onto his lips. "I think this means I won."  
She raised a hand to smack him, looking up at his face in the foreground of the bright sky. The light that entered her eyes made her head throb, and she put down her hand and rubbed the spot of contact on her forehead. "Fuck," she muttered.  
Cato raised an eyebrow. "Concussion?" he suggested, answered by silence as Clove continued to rub her forehead and keep her stare fixated on her shoes. "C'mon, I'll drive you home. I'll get my reward later."  
"No, I'm fine," Clove muttered, still not making any eye contact.  
"I'm trying to be nice here, quit being so damn stubborn for once," Cato replied, the command evident in his voice. Clove tried to get up, steadying herself before wobbling at her first step. At the sight of her struggling to walk straight, Cato immediately placed a hand on her shoulder to hold her steady, at which Clove immediately jumped.  
"I'm not trying to fucking rape you, Kensington, quit jumping every single time I touch you," Cato snapped, annoyed.  
Shooting him an infuriated look, Clove crossed her arms as she finally steadied herself. "I don't see why you'd care if I get home in the first place."  
He looked at her with such peculiarity, as if her statement was completely preposterous. "Clove, I'm not that much of an asshole. Pretty sure your father would kill me if I left you here to pass out and die."  
She laughed in a hollow manner. "Trying to get approval to court Glimmer?" she asked mockingly, as Cato extended his arm to her. She stared at it for a few seconds. "I'm fine, dammit."  
He rolled his eyes at her continued stubbornness. "Just take the damn arm, Kensington." She gripped it hesitantly as they made their way down the stairs of the bleachers and in the direction of the parking lot. "And no, I'm not fucking courting Glimmer. I think I have all I need from her."  
Clove groaned at the suggestive meaning of his last phrase, trying not to think about what possibly went on between them. "Looks to me like she wanted commitment," Clove pointed out, recalling last night's events.  
Scoffing, Cato pulled out the keys from his pocket to unlock the car. "She's not getting it from me."  
"How romantic," Clove commented, the sarcasm dripping from her voice.  
"Didn't think you'd expect romance."  
"I don't. Not for Glimmer, at least. And certainly not for you either."  
Cato raised an eyebrow, curious about her assumption. "And why's that?"  
"You don't believe in love."  
"How do you know that?"  
"Do you?"  
"Nope," Cato responded quickly, unflinching as he opened the passenger door to his black Ferrari. Clove stepped in and settled in on the smooth leather seat. He entered his side and the engine revved to life, seemingly ready to go a lot faster than speed limit.  
"Thought so," Clove stated, content in being right.  
"Do you?" Cato asked, after a few seconds of silence as they drove down the oceanside road.  
Clove stared out the window before she looked at Cato, whose eyes were fixated on the road before he caught her stare, glancing at her expectantly for an answer. "I...think it happens to some people," she justified. "Like my parents."  
"Not mine," Cato muttered. It was almost a state in a parallel universe, where they were holding a conversation without strangling each other. Clove was almost surprised at his small confession, though how secretive he normally was about the topic he wasn't sure. "What about to you?"  
"Me? Uhh. Not so far, no."  
"Really," Cato asked, in a somewhat skeptical tone. "Looked like you were pining over state champion last night."  
Clove groaned at the mention of Luke. "First boyfriend thing, I guess," she said, lamely blaming her state the previous night on the sentimentality that she held Luke to.  
"Why'd you break up?" Cato asked, as they pulled into the gated community that the Kensington house was located in.  
"Why do you care?" Clove countered.  
"Holy hell, Kensington, it was just a damn question. What, realized he wasn't the one? Unintelligent? Clingy?"  
"Deceptive," Clove corrected him in describing her ex-boyfriend. "And, uhh, unfaithful." She didn't know what came over her, why she was spilling the details of her past to Cato, but the information flowed out of her mouth and onto the open air. Once again, Cato swore he saw the flicker of vulnerability dance into her eyes for the smallest of moments, before they turned into her familiar cold stare.  
"Oh. Uhh, sorry to hear that," Cato mumbled as they drove into the long pavement that made up the Kensington driveway.  
Clove scoffed. "Doesn't matter," she replied. They sat in silence until Cato finally reached the roundabout in front of the Kensington house, driving up in front of the entrance.  
"Umm, thanks for the ride," Clove mumbled almost inaudibly as she exited the car.  
"What'd you say, Kensington?" Cato grinned slyly.  
"I said thank you, you asshole."

And that marked the first friendly conversation between Cato Weston and Clove Kensington.

* * *

**A/N: HI GUYS I'M STILL ALIVE I PROMISE! Thank you soooo much for the reviews. I love you all. Love love love love love you.** **I'm so sorry I don't update as often as I should, but I'm really trying to make these chapters as high-quality as possible.**

**So there you have it. Is there more than sexual tension between our two favorite Hamptonites?**

**Anyway, leave more love! Thank you so much to you all who review both here AND on my tumblr, compliclato. You guys make my day.**

**Much love, Rina!**


	12. Chapter 12

The sound of a ringing phone bounced off the walls of Cato Weston's room, his hand finding its way out of the covers to silence the sound. His first impulse was to hit the attractive red button, to shut off personal contact for at least another few hours so he could absorb more sleep on the last day of the weekend. He looked at the block letters displaying the Caller ID, squinting his eyes at first at the source of bright light that contrasted the darkness of the room. He had no idea of the time of the day, no idea that Irene had left and gone to church, no idea that it was almost noon and he was still in bed.

Cato refused to admit it, but working out had exhausted him to his limits. He'd never put himself through so much physical work, so much self-discipline and so much mental straining. Of course, the parties in Manhattan had tested his sleep, but partying was certainly different from getting himself to a track and doing continuous wind sprints up and down the field. The dissatisfaction from Coach Brutus and Mark Kensington from the first day of practice had been engraved in Cato's mind—he refused to fail their expectations and be a lackluster quarterback. Cato hated being a lackluster anything. He was either the best or he refused to do it at all—it explained for his less than existent schoolwork and community service, and his excess in drinking and partying. Now, football had become an integral part of his life—he'd spent the previous night watching the NFL Network, a few clips of Mark Kensington's old games, trying to figure out what the man had that Cato didn't. He wanted it. He wanted the alluring glory, the life of becoming an essential celebrity due to mere physical prowess.

The letters on his phone read "Gale Hawthorne" and immediately, Cato associated the big man's name with football, assuming there was some sort of practice or weightlifting session going on. "Hey bro, what's going on," Cato asked as he picked up the phone, hearing the sound of waves in the background.

"Get your ass up, we're playing touch football in front of the beach house," Gale's low voice travelled out of the speaker, and Cato instantly raised his eyebrow.

"Touch football?" he scoffed. "Did you suddenly get your balls cut off or something?" If touch football was what was involved, Cato gladly would stay in bed for another few hours, not minding missing the weak, watered down version of the sport.

"Wells, my balls are still intact, thanks for asking," Gale replied, chuckling. "But the ladies are here so we can't really tackle them to the ground."

"The girls are playing?" Cato asked flatly, the interest absent in his voice but present in his mind.

"Well, some of them are," Gale shrugged, thinking nothing of the question. "Marvel invited Clove, Katniss and Jackie." At the mention of the pale brunette, Cato sat up and searched for a clean pair of athletic shorts, definitely interested in seeing how she would fare playing football.

The gathering at Gale Hawthorne's beach house was casual, certainly not to the level of Marvel's party or of Glimmer's previous beach house party. He arrived on the small, modest property where a few familiar faces were soaking up sun in beach chairs, Madge and Jackie being two of them. He glanced further down onto the shore to see Clove, Gale, Katniss, Peeta, Marvel and the wide receiver, Finnick, all engaged in what looked to be a much smaller scale of a scrimmage. He watched as Clove played quarterback to what looked to be a team with Peeta and Marvel, throwing a perfect spiral pass at Peeta who bobbled it before reeling it in. His mouth formed an impressed grin at Clove's perfect form and release, much like her father's only without quite as much arm strength.

"Alright. Which team's the lucky one?" he asked as they took a break from play, and saw Cato approaching as he took off his shirt and discarded it on the sand.

"Bro, we're getting killed by that scrambling quarterback," Finnick panted, nodding over at Clove who had a confident smirk on her face as she played with the football in her hands.

"He's right," Gale chuckled, shaking his head. "You're on a team with me, Katniss and Finnick." Cato nodded in approval as they lined up for defense, and the game started as Peeta snapped the ball and took off, Clove, eyeing her passers. Cato watched the eyes of the quarterback, tracing her vision, but before he knew it, Clove herself was taking off with the ball. She slipped through the first line of defense of Gale and Katniss who were blocked by Marvel and Peeta. The sight of Marvel trying to contain a much larger Gale was humorous and Clove found herself almost laughing at the sight, but focused on getting past the last two defenders to slip through the end zone.

At the sight of Cato and Finnick closing in on her from each side, she picked up her pace to its maximum and dashed right through the two, finding her way into the end zone and scoring. She let out an excited whoop and spiked the ball as Marvel and Peeta joined in her celebration, running and pumping their fists into the air before picking Clove up from underneath and hoisting the light girl on their shoulder.

"Look at that stud!" Marvel yelled before they put Clove down, Marvel and Peeta bumping chests for no apparent reason as Clove laughed. From a few feet away, Cato, Finnick, Gale and Katniss watched the celebration, Gale and Katniss chuckling at the sight of Marvel and Peeta's goofiness. To Cato, it seemed so strange that the two were friends with Clove, and that somehow, their happiness was contagious to even the usually hostile girl.

As if Finnick read his mind, he muttered, "It's like sports get her high or something." Cato laughed at his receiver, who was still panting at attempting to chase down Clove.

The next possession, the offense of Cato's team scored as Cato threw a pass to the awaiting hands of Finnick, who lept up acrobatically and caught it above the reach of the much shorter Peeta.

"Guys, I made lunch," Jacqueline called from inside the house as she and Madge prepared to take out the trays to the deck. "Time to eat."

"Alright, mother, one more," Marvel shouted back and rolled his eyes as they got ready for one more possession, everyone getting into their pre-snap stances. "Hike!" Clove called, asking for the ball before passing it right to Peeta.

"Run him to the ocean!" Gale yelled jokingly, as he, Finnick and Katniss charged at Peeta, directing him into the waves. Marvel, too, ran in that direction, but why he did so was unknown. He had no ball and he certainly wasn't on the other team, but in a moment of confusion, Marvel decided to go along with the crowd.

As the three on Cato's team tackled both of Clove's receivers into the waves and drenched them, Clove stood in the dry sand, her mouth agape at the strange turn of events. She looked at Cato, who had a smirk on his face, before she narrowed his eyes. "Don't even think about-" she began.

"Too late," he interrupted her, sprinting at the girl. Before Clove could take two steps, Cato's arms had scooped her up in one swift movement as he threw her over his shoulder and headed straight for the water.

"Cato!" she shrieked, beating her fists against his back in protest. "I'm going to kill you!" She nearly slipped from his shoulder a few times because of the sweat that had covered her sports bra and spandex clad body, but he managed to keep ahold of her through the water until he reached a deep enough level to drop the tiny girl in. He dunked her in the water that was about four feet deep, and she emerged from the water with wet hair, looking absolutely furious. "I'm going to kill you!" She screamed and ran at the much larger boy, tackling him right into the torso and causing him to fall butt-first into the water with her sheer momentum.

The rest of the group had gotten up from the water, soaked from the waves. Katniss nudged at Peeta. "Look," she said, pointing at Cato and Clove who were currently engaged in what looked to be an aquatic wrestling match.

Finnick raised an eyebrow. "Uh. Should we... maybe rescue him?" he asked, looking at the other four while Clove was now on Cato's back, trying to get a chokehold on the much larger boy. It was a losing battle.

Gale laughed. "No, I think he's fine," he said as the group started to move out of the water, unnoticed by the two so caught up in their fight. "We've finally met someone stupid enough to mess with Clove... Other than Stone over here, of course."

"Bitch," Marvel muttered a comeback at the comment of his lack of intelligence, while the others laughed.

"Correct me if I'm wrong. But I think Weston's definitely got the hots for Clove," Peeta grinned, while Katniss rolled her eyes.

"Oh hush, you romantic," Katniss replied as they neared the deck, grabbing towels.

"I mean, look at 'em," Peeta replied, as the group turned back to two who were still in the water. Cato looked to be laughing as Clove got up from the bed of sand and started to walk away. "It's weird as hell, but I mean, there's _something_."

Marvel shrugged. "You guys really think Clove's going to let her guard down?"

"He's definitely getting under her skin," Gale pointed out, as they dried off, Clove approaching them looking infuriated. She approached the group and pointed at the guy trailing her from behind.

"Who invited him," Clove grumbled as she took her towel and headed inside the house. As soon as she shut the door behind her, the group broke out in laughter, Finnick meeting Cato with a fist bump.

* * *

The girls had gone inside to do the dishes and store the food, leaving Cato, Finnick, Gale, Marvel and Peeta sitting on the deck, beers in hand as they looked at the rolling waves emerging from the darkness of the night. "Bros. It's senior year, can you believe it?" Finnick asked, breaking the silence before taking another swig of his draught.

Gale chuckled. "I'm just ready to get out of this damn town."

"What are you doing next, man?" Peeta asked curiously, turning to his childhood friend and watched as Gale shrugged.

"I don't know... Go to college... Work for dad's company I guess," Gale muttered.

"So really, you're just leaving for four years and coming back here," Marvel laughed, and it echoed with the rest of the boys.

Gale shot him a look. "What are you planning on doing, Marvy?" he asked, using Marvel's loathed nickname.

Marvel shrugged. "Same as you. Go to college. Diamond industry's waiting for me right when I get out. Looks like we're gonna be stuck here, boys. Peeta's gonna be head baker and Finn here's gonna be fishing straight into retirement," he teased the two other boys, grinning. "What about you, Weston?"

Cato snapped out of a vacant stare. "Huh? Fuck if I know."

Peeta laughed and shook his head. "You could play football," Gale pointed out. "Get far this season and you'll probably pick up a few looks."

Finnick scoffed. "You already have the head cheerleader and the looks, you lucky shit."

Cato laughed. "Not dating Glimmer," he corrected him, shaking his head.

"Told you!" Peeta exclaimed. "Told you, it's cause Weston over here's infatuated with Clove."

"The fact that you even used the word infatuated makes your argument invalid," Marvel commented wryly, his protectiveness over Clove showing slightly as Cato raised an eyebrow.

"Clove? As in the one that tried to maul me? Psycho's not my type," Cato denied.

"Dude. If I didn't have a girlfriend, Clove wouldn't be a bad choice," Finnick shrugged nonchalantly. "I mean, temper aside and shit, she's hot. She plays sports."

"A lot more to her than that," Cato muttered, which earned a stare from all of the other men.

Peeta's face went from surprise to a knowing smirk. "I knew it. I'm calling it right now," he said, throwing his hands up before picking up the beer and immersing himself in another Sunday night buzz.

* * *

"What do you think they talk about?" Madge asked, peering out the kitchen window, tempted to eavesdrop the men's chatter.

"Uh. I don't know, beer, sex and sports?" Clove remarked as she dried some dishes. Jacqueline scrunched her nose in disgust and Katniss laughed. "What? It's true."

"It's so weird... we grew up with them and now they go out to parties sleeping with every other girl who isn't us," Jacqueline said, much contemplation in her voice.

"Speak for yourself," Madge said, grinning slyly as Clove groaned at the thought.

"Are we really talking about sleeping with them?" Clove rolled her eyes. "All boys who we've seen in their diapers?" And Katniss nodded in agreement.

"Kat, don't pretend you're not in love with Peeta, you have been since the first grade." Madge stated, crossing her arms in her one-woman promiscuity ship. "And, all of them except for Cato, Clove."

"All of them are also not assholes like Cato-" Clove started to say but was hushed by Madge, who was leaning against the window.

"Shh, Clove, I think they're talking about you," she interrupted. "I can't hear much... Finn's talking. I think he just called you hot."

Clove raised her eyebrow. "Finn? Madge, clean your ears. Finn has a girlfriend," she said, putting away the last of the dishes.

"Now Cato's talking..." Madge announced, trying to listen to the muffled voices through the window. "Ugh, why can't they talk louder."

"Hey Undersee, the dishes are waiting," Clove grumbled as Madge pouted and turned the tap back on, the sound of the water drowning out the boys' faint voices.

* * *

As everyone continued to help restore Gale's beach house back to its normal order, Clove took a break from cleaning up to sit on the deck railing and enjoy the sea breeze. She heard the door behind open and shut and looked back to see the man she'd least preferred to see, as usual.

"Thinking about going for round two in the water?" he joked, and Clove rolled her eyes.

"You're funny," she muttered. "What, too good to help everyone clean?"

"I'm not the one with house servants," Cato countered, placing both hands oh the railing beside where she sat.

"You're not telling me your parents actually got you to do chores once in your life," Clove said, skeptical of the mental image.

"To do that, they'd have to know they have a son," Cato commented, staring out into the sea. Clove couldn't help but turn her head to look at the boy, intrigued by his vague comment.

"What, mom and dad too busy with their important careers to focus on their only child?" she scoffed, predicting the typical sob story so common with affluent children.

Cato let out a hollow laugh. "Somewhat that," he admitted. "And with other people. Typical rich kid problems." He said the phrase with such an absence of humor that Clove couldn't help but wonder what he was trying to say.

"So they sent their golden boy to be raised by someone else when you finally caved in?" Clove predicted once more, but her almost lighthearted tone met silence-an unforeseen solemnity.

"I wasn't the golden boy," Cato shook his head, chuckling coldly. "My twin brother Cassius was, actually."

"Which is why he's still in the city," Clove hypothesized. She met silence for a few seconds.

"Yeah. I guess you could say that," he finally said, a tone of mystery in his voice that annoyed Clove. He was hiding something, as if it were painfully obvious common knowledge. She continued to press on with questions.

"Must be hard living in his shadow," Clove commented, trying to get some sort of emotion out of him.

Cato looked down at the railing. "Kind of hard to do that now if he's six feet under," Cato muttered, almost inaudibly, but loud enough for Clove to hear as her eyes instantly widened.

"Cato, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-," she started to say. She was interrupted by another cold, emotionless laugh.

"Not a big deal," he replied. "I'm just a conceited, rich asshole, dead brother doesn't change anything." With that final statement, he turned around and headed back into the house, leaving Clove with nothing but her thoughts. She felt a guilt for Cato-mainly from her experience of losing family herself, but also for the fact that she'd thought of him as nothing but what he'd referred to himself as: a conceited, rich asshole.

Maybe they had much more in common, holding a painful past that no one else could possibly understand.

* * *

**A/N: So sorry this is really late! I was just a tad bit stuck, but thanks to your reviewing, I got through it with a relatively decent chapter (I think). Let me just say that your suggestions are absolutely amazing. You guys should really think about writing AU fics (:**

**If you're curious as to what other AU fics are out there that I admire, I've been a huge fan of The Final Trace of Innocence, Guilty By Association and Hot Addiction. If you have any recommendations, let me know! i'd love to do more reading.**

**But keep reviewing! I love hearing about what parts you like, who your favorite characters are and what you want to see more of.**

**Also follow me on Tumblr! Compliclato is my blog, and I run ask-marvizzle as well. **

**So much love for you all! - Rina**


	13. Chapter 13

Slipping on her black flats to complete her perfectly ironed uniform, Clove Kensington found her lips curling upwards the slightest bit. As she tightened her ponytail, she spotted the soccer uniform hanging on her doorknob and she knew why. It was a Monday, and Mondays often came with a certain dread—but moreover, it was game day. She'd grown anxious the night before, tossing and turning, unable to contain her excitement for the first game of the season. Gliding down the stairs, she couldn't help but feel like the day was going to end in perfect bliss.

She made her way to the kitchen, where the rest of the family was already in the kitchen taking full advantage of her stepmother's homemade breakfast. While Stella Joyce made a fantastic model, her skill at being a housewife equaled, if not topped it. The image of her father and Stella eating breakfast together had always been unpleasant to Clove, but today not even that could bother her.

"Ready for your game today, champ?" Mark greeted, looking up from his morning paper, with a grin on his face complementing his natural enthusiasm. Clove nodded, grabbing a prepared plate from the kitchen counter. A shake was waiting for her, meant to be taken after the run she'd completed earlier that morning. Game days were no excuse to skip her exercise regimen.

"Of course she's ready, Mark," Stella said sweetly. "We'll all be there to support you today, dear."

"Thanks," Clove answered curtly, keeping the conversation with her stepmother minimal. Stella had always been sweet to her, though her intentions had never been clear. Still, she seemed to treat Clove as well as her own daughter, yet their relationship was close to non-existent. Stella Joyce was the elegant socialite, the kind that demanded attention in every room without speaking a word. She was, in many men's standards, the most beautiful woman in the world. To Clove, though, she simply could not be anything more than the woman that her father married, and she saw no connection necessary.

"Ugh, I can't believe I have to sit through a whole game," Glimmer whined after swallowing her cereal. "Do I really have to go?"

"Nope," Clove muttered. "I'd actually prefer if—"

"Girls," Mark said sternly, intent on preventing another family war. "We're going to Clove's game. That's what families do. Besides, Glimmer, I'm sure some of your friends will be there."

The blonde daughter rolled her eyes and scowled, but that made the brown-haired one no happier. She, too, wanted little to do with her sister.

* * *

"Weston!" A familiar low voice called, and Cato turned around to see Gale jogging towards him, backpack slung around his shoulder and blazer in one hand. It was an exceptionally warm day in the fall, evident by both boys' rolled up sleeves. The slovenly appearance no doubt violated the school dress code, but they were seniors, as well as football players. Even with their less-than-perfect record, the large statured men still held quite an influence even over the staff. "No practice today."

"Huh?" Cato asked, raising an eyebrow in hearing the words he never thought he would until the end of the season.

"Girls' first game," Gale shrugged. "Apparently Coach Brutus is insisting we go support the girls… sounds like Enobaria threatened him into it. But hey, I'll take a rest day."

"Girls' game's not mandatory though, right?" Normally, Cato would have taken the chance to observe Clove, another chance to pursue her and to get her to break, but something inside of him had snapped the other night. He'd told her something he didn't plan on letting anyone in that town know—her, out of all people. What surprised him the most was the sympathy that he assumed she wouldn't have. But it was there, and it was undeniable, and he couldn't forget about it. About how, if only for a moment, he and Clove seemed to have some sort of strange connection. And that was exactly the kind of thing that Cato Weston stayed away from, at all costs.

"Uhh, no, not really," Gale answered, and nodded at the approaching Marvel.

"What's up, guys," the lanky boy greeted, his hands stuffed in his pockets. "Going to the girls' game?"

"Yeah, I guess," Gale shrugged. "Madge was going on and on about how it would be a nice gesture and shit. Couldn't be that bad, right? Katniss and Clove might take some chick down." He and Marvel laughed at the thought.

"What about you, Weston?" Marvel asked Cato, who was averting both of their eye contact and staring off into the distance, lost in his own thoughts.

"Huh? Oh. Uhh… I wasn't really thinking about it. I might have shit to do," he replied, scratching the back of his neck in a posture of uncertainty.

Gale scoffed. "Like what? Homework?" Cato shot him a look of irritation, causing the other boy to lay off slightly. "Well. I'm gonna go, gotta walk Madge to class." He turned around after nodding the two goodbye, leaving Marvel and Cato to themselves in the hallway.

"So, why aren't you going?" Marvel asked bluntly, the friendly tone still in his voice as usual. Despite Marvel's approachable nature, Cato found himself hardly warming up to him for some odd, unexplainable reason. Most times he saw the boy was when he was around Clove, and the two seemed to be weirdly in sync. He was almost positive that if Marvel found out about all that went on between the two of them, he too wouldn't be ecstatic.

He gave a noncommittal shrug. "It's girls' soccer. Who wants to watch that shit."

"Okay, good point, nobody," Marvel nodded. "But Clove's playing."

Cato paused, surprised at Marvel's reasoning. He failed to understand the direction of the conversation, and made no efforts in concealing so. "So?" Cato scoffed. "You don't actually believe Peeta's shit, do you?"

Marvel chuckled. "I don't have to listen to Peeta to know, man," he explained. "I'm dumb as hell when it comes to school and shit, but I'm great at knowing people."

"What's your point, Stone?" Cato asked, rolling his eyes in irritation.

"My point is, I know you're trying to get with Clove," Marvel answered dryly. "She interests you. She interests everyone, but no one's crazy enough to try except you."

"I think that you're forgetting the fact I'm hooking up with her sister," Cato pointed out, crossing his arms, confident he was going to convince Marvel otherwise.

"Believe me, I don't forget," Marvel muttered. "But you still haven't told me why you're not going to the game. But that's okay, because it's kind of obvious."

"What is?"

"You're starting to like her, bro."

"The fuck are you talking about?"

Marvel let out a laugh, much to Cato's irritation. "I've watched guys go after Clove for years. I know what it looks like when they just want to get in her pants, and I know when they actually might have feelings for her. And I know exactly which category you belong to, whether you like it or not."

"You're absolutely batshit, bro," Cato replied, unable to come up with anything even a little bit better to counter Marvel's allegations. "You want me to go to the game? Fine with me."

The warning bell rang as Marvel shook his head in amusement. "See you then, I guess," he chuckled, and walked off to the opposite direction.

* * *

Clove sat in her seat, anxiously waiting for Mr. Abernathy to come in and shut the door. For Cato Weston to not come in with his confident stride and sit beside her as she experienced extreme discomfort. While the upcoming game had dominated much of her thoughts, flashbacks of the night before still attacked for attention every once in a while. She failed to discard the memory of his confession; of the moment that Cato Weston seemed so human and so vulnerable. It changed everything that she had convinced herself of—Cato no longer seemed to be the invincible thorn on her side.

Much to her dismay, he did indeed walk in, blonde hair perfectly tousled, sleeves rolled up and tie loosened. He looked no different than any other day, but he was an entirely different person in Clove's eyes. She felt a strange sensation in her stomach that almost resembled guilt. But for what did she need to feel guilty for? She hadn't a clue, as he took a seat next to her, once again omitting his usual morning greeting.

Before she could comprehend what her exact intentions were, she found her lips moving in an effort to catch the boy's attention. "Cato," she spoke up, and his head turned in the direction of the call.

"What?" he asked her, the slightest demand in his tone as his blue eyes looked right into hers.

"Look, about last night," she started, unsure of where she would take the statement. "I didn't mean to… cross some sort of line or anything." As she neared an apology, he interrupted her.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, an irritated tone in his voice.

"I'm talking about what you said," she answered matter-of-factly.

"I didn't say anything," he denied. Clove stared at him for a few seconds, unable to grasp the hostility that he was suddenly projecting. While she had full intentions to apologize, his distant attitude and her own stubbornness quickly thwarted those plans.

"Forget I said anything then," she muttered, and turned back to her seat awaiting the teacher without looking at him for the rest of the period.

Cato breathed an internal sigh of relief at the end of the conversation. The smallest voice in the back of his mind had been screaming at him, but the loudest screams came to be mere whispers compared to the rest of his thoughts. Still, the slightest utterance of those words from his tiniest voice had struck him. _Maybe she cares_, it told her. It repeated Marvel's accusations—that he was starting to develop some sort of emotional connection to Clove, despite his refusals to let such a thing to happen. He quickly buried the stray thoughts. _She doesn't_, he thought to himself. _She hates you, you hate her. You want to fuck her and be done with it._ He repeated the statements, over and over again, despite the gradual increase in volume of the smallest voice he'd heard earlier.

* * *

Clove laced up her cleats next to Katniss in the locker room, tightening the shoestrings in the most secure way possible. Pulling up her socks once more, she made sure that every single thing in her uniform was absolutely in place. She shook her hair out of precaution, making sure the braid she'd been given was perfectly secure for the rest of the day.

"Excited?" Katniss asked, striking conversation as she too laced her own cleats up.

Clove gave the girl a half-grin. "What do you think."

"Are you in that gladiator mode yet?" Jacqueline asked, c oming around a corner of lockers as she secured her own ponytails.

Clove rolled her eyes. "Funny," she commented, recalling of the time Jacqueline coined the term. She had the ritual of shutting out the world and focus on nothing but whatever she was intending on doing—whether it be running the basketball as point guard or setting the volleyball for Katniss.

They walked out of the locker room after a talk from Enobaria, stressing the importance of establishing a presence on the field—intimidation was half the battle, according to the coach, and surprise made up for the other half. After three years of playing under the same coach, Clove knew all that she had to say. Still, she listened to her in admiration and by the time she was exiting the locker room, the adrenaline was coursing through her veins.

She was the last to leave the locker room and walk onto the hallway that led onto the field, hoisting her duffel bag on her shoulder as she made her way to the staircase.

"Kensington," a familiar voice called out to her from the other direction in the hallway, and she turned around to see none other than Cato Weston leaning against a locker.

"Weston," she replied curtly as she approached him. "What do you want?" As far as she was concerned, she had given him her two minutes of compassion, as she returned to her ice cold demeanor. She stopped right in front of him, crossing her arms as she stood in a defensive manner.

He shrugged, a half-smirk on his face. "Just wanted to wish you good luck," he said nonchalantly.

"How nice of you," Clove muttered skeptically.

"I figured I'd let you know in advance that I'd be here, so you wouldn't wipe out right in the middle of the game when you saw me," he joked, the cocky tone in his voice. "That shit always seems to happen to you."

"Funny," she rolled her eyes. "I have to go." She turned on her heel, about to head out of the door.

"Wait," he interjected, and she turned around to look at him. He took a step forward, dangerously close to her. "Everything I said last night. That stays between us."

She scoffed. "You thought I would go around telling everyone? That Cato Weston used to have a heart once upon a time?"

"I'm serious," he said sternly, a threatening tone in his voice.

"Look, Weston. You don't scare me, so maybe you should stop trying that angle," she retorted and turned her head in the direction of the door.

He grabbed both sides of her arms and turned her towards him, staring intensely down at the smaller girl before leaning in and planting a rough kiss on her lips. He searched for the vulnerability that he'd seen the night of the party, and in a flicker of her eyes, he saw it again and smirked satisfactorily. "I think I do scare you, actually," he whispered hoarsely, his face still inches away from hers.

She returned his stare, both confusion and anger plaguing her facial features. "I have to go," she muttered simply, exiting the building and heading into the field as Cato adjusted the backpack on his shoulders, watching the girl leave.

* * *

Cato walked out to the bleachers, where a small crowd was gathered to support the girls' soccer team. A range of parents, teachers, and random students had come out to watch the girls, and he scanned for Gale and Marvel. Marvel had decided to paint his upper torso in the school colors, his hair fluffed out to make him look a tad bit crazier than his normal persona. Gale was beside him, sitting with Madge and Peeta. He recognized a few other football players in the crowd, one being Finnick—the girl beside him, he assumed, was the girlfriend he mentioned.

He approached the familiar crowd, greeted by Marvel's recognition. He gave him a knowing glance before flashing his usual grin. "Weston! So you aren't too cool, I see."

"Guess not," Cato muttered as he took the seat next to Peeta, who offered him the giant pretzel he was holding in one hand. Cato shook his head and looked at the sideline, where the girls had already gotten themselves settled in. Clove was talking to Katniss, Jacqueline and some other girl with short hair that he didn't recognize. She tightened her ponytail again before looking over at the crowd. For a moment, her eyes met Cato's before she quickly averted her gaze, instead finding her family.

"First girls' soccer game?" Peeta asked him while chewing on a piece of his pretzel.

Cato nodded. "I don't usually like to familiarize myself with torture."

Peeta laughed, then looked at him curiously. "It's okay, man, we all know why you're here."

Cato shot him an annoyed look, much like the one he'd given Marvel earlier. "I'm not here for Clove, damn it," he muttered.

"Then what are you here for?" Peeta asked.

Cato opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by a high-pitched voice. "Cato!" He turned around to see Glimmer, still dressed in her perfectly put together school uniform, heading in his direction. "What are you doing here?"

"Yeah, Cato, what are you doing here?" Peeta teased as he received another glare from Cato.

"Uhh…" he started off, looking for some sort of valid excuse.

"I invited him," Marvel interjected, and both Cato and Glimmer turned around to look at the painted boy. Cato mouthed a thank you, in which Marvel shot him the smallest nod as recognition.

"Oh, hey Marvel," Glimmer greeted, and turned her attention back to Cato. "You should come sit by me."

Cato shifted uncomfortably, unsure of spending the whole game in the presence of the Kensington family. "Uhh, I think I'm fine here, actually," he replied.

Glimmer frowned. "Guess I'll just sit here then," she said, plopping down on the spot next to Cato. While Marvel looked to be pleased about the situation, both Gale and Peeta snuck glances at Cato when the blonde girl turned away, evidently on the irritated side. Peeta mouthed "party foul" at Cato, while Gale rolled his eyes, quickly slapped in the arm by Madge.

Gale looked away into the distance, seeing a red sports car pull into the parking lot and squinting to see when the driver got out of his car. "What the hell is Luke doing here?"

* * *

Jacqueline spotted Luke coming in from the parking lot, quickly nudging Clove. "Look who's here," she hissed at her, and Clove followed Jacqueline's stare.

She shrugged, putting it off in the calmest way possible. "His sister's on the other team." She wasn't going to let her mind wander to thoughts of Luke. She tightened her ponytail once more and took a drink of her Gatorade as the girls huddled for one final time.

The whistle blew and the game began, and Clove immediately went right to work, taking control of the ball. Katniss and Delly flanked her on either side, ready to be passed to, but she felt no need as her feet treaded the grass with ease.

It wasn't long before she scored her first goal after a quick pass from Katniss, the ball flying from her feet to the corner of the goal. When all was right, she never missed. She took her time to celebrate her first goal of the season, her teammates crowding around her in excitement. She heard her father yell her name, heard Marvel shout a loud "Hell yeah!" for all of the sporting audience to hear as she let out a genuine grin, wiping the sweat off her brow as she readied to take the field again.

The game ended in victory on Panem Preparatory's side, Clove scoring three more goals and Katniss adding up with two. Jacqueline, playing goalie, had managed to fend off all but one goal, but nobody complained—a win was a win, and Clove wore the largest smile when she exited the locker room and caught up with the crowd that had gone to see the game.

"Is that Clove and Katniss?" Marvel nudged Peeta. "You think we can their autographs, or their numbers and shit?" Peeta laughed as the two girls rolled their eyes, spotting their two friends.

"Why do we invite you two to these things," Katniss groaned, and met Madge who gave her a congratulatory hug.

"GROUP HUG!" Marvel yelled as he, Peeta, and a hesitant Gale enveloped the three girls. Glimmer raised an eyebrow at the sight, her arm slipped into Cato's. The cluster of people dispersed much to Clove's preference, when another voice spoke up.

"Congratulations, Clove," Luke greeted the small-statured striker, who turned around.

She gave Luke a weak smile. "Thanks," she replied. "Your, umm, sister made a good goalie."

Luke laughed and shook his head. "She needs work. But you aren't exactly the easiest opponent." A pink tint crept into Clove's cheeks at the compliment as she muttered a soft thank you and from afar, Gale rolled his eyes.

"How sweet," he said under his breath, audible only to Marvel who was standing next to him. He wasn't the only one displeased by the heralded quarterback's presence—Cato looked at the boy with utter hostility, and his skin almost radiated a burning jealousy over Luke.

"Something wrong?" Glimmer asked, sensing Cato's shoulders tensing up.

"Nothing," he said through his teeth, tearing his hostile stare away from Luke. "Why'd they break up?" he asked bluntly, making no attempt to hide his curiosity.

"Well," Glimmer started.

* * *

**A/N: Well... this may be my most terrible chapter yet. Sorry guys ): And I know it's so overdue, but please don't give up on me! I'm trying really hard! I just struggled with this chapter, hopefully my muse picks up again and I'll be writing effortlessly. Suggestions are always welcome, thank you so much for reviewing! If you have any questions, just review! Or if you have any thoughts/feels at all about this fic, definitely review (: Because reviews are my favorite.**

**Anyway. Sorry to leave you at a cliffhanger. I really didn't mean to.**

**The next chapter's most likely going to come in the next few days (and by few I mean one or two) because I actually have free time!**

**Follow me on tumblr, compliclato, leave some love there as well! Thanks! **

**- Rina**


	14. Chapter 14

"Well what?" Cato asked, demand heavy in his tone.

"Umm..." Glimmer started, shifting uncomfortably. "I guess the whole mom's death thing was really rough on Clove and Luke didn't really know how to deal." Cato stole another glance at the tanned quarterback, whose presence radiated with charisma. The confidence seemed to give even Marvel a run for his money, though at the moment, it hardly seemed like a difficult task. Instead of sporting his regular lopsided grin, even Marvel seemed to be glaring at Luke. The general consensus towards him seemed to be overwhelmingly negative.

"There's something you're not telling me," Cato muttered, looking right into Glimmer's eyes and observing the obvious dishonesty.

"Cato, not here," Glimmer whispered, a plea laced in her attempt at commanding the male. No one else had noticed their squabble, having stood a few feet further. The tension had risen in the air, contributing to what had already thickened from the appearance of Luke.

"Do not tell me what to do," Cato hissed through his clenched jaw, evoking a fear in Glimmer. She had yet to see the angry side of him, though his annoyance had always made a frequent appearance. He withdrew his arm out of her grasp and turned to exit the building. He pushed through the doors with such force that the noise interrupted the group standing in the hallway, and Marvel turned to see a shaken up Glimmer. While the rest of the group returned to their conversation after the brief disruption, he walked towards the blonde who was avoiding eye contact with the rest of the group.

"Glimmer? You okay? What happened?" he asked, treading lightly at the girl, whose crossed arms signified a defense.

"Nothing, Marvel," she snapped. "Go back to the Clove celebration party."

"Glimmer," Marvel countered. "Hey. I'm not taking sides."

"Oh really?" Glimmer scowled, the venom obvious in her voice. "When was the last time you stuck up for me, Marvel? We used to be best friends."

"I am tired of watching you ruin yourself, Glimmer," he replied softly. "I can't-,"

"That's not fair, Marvel, you know I had a hard time with the divorce and-" Glimmer interjected, and Marvel's raised hand signified he wanted to hear no more.

"It wasn't fair to Clove either, Glim," he pointed out. "Luke was the first guy she trusted and you knew that, drunk or not."

Glimmer rolled her eyes, shifting her stance. "I don't owe her anything."

"You at least could try not to make her life a living hell, Glim," Marvel argued, but his expression softened as he looked down at his shoes. "He's only going to hurt you, you know."

She raised an eyebrow, surprised at the sudden statement. "He's not the first player I've hooked up with, Marv."

"Maybe not," Marvel shrugged. "But he's different."

"You don't have to worry about me, Marvel," she scoffed, a slight smirk forming on her lips. "They always come back for more, no matter what they came for in the first place."

The conversation was interrupted by the honk of a horn, where Mark had pulled up the black SUV in front of the building to pick his daughters up. Marvel sighed and turned in the direction of the student parking lot, knowing that nothing good could come out of the mess.

He walked onto the pavement lot, spotting Cato leaning on the hood of his car fumbling with what looked like a cigarette in his hand, and looking up to make eye contact with Marvel. He wore a sullen expression, one hand shoved in his pocket. "What are you looking at, Stone," he grumbled.

Marvel let out an amused, short laugh. "Easy there, Weston," he joked. "I'm not the one whose head you're after. He left right after you did."

"I don't have a problem with-"

"Calling bullshit, man," Marvel laughed. "Everyone hates Luke, don't worry."

"And why's that?" Cato asked in his disinterested, monotone voice as he put the cigarette out.

Marvel shrugged. "Same reason you do. He doesn't deserve Clove." He paused for a few seconds, studying Cato. "You're probably wondering why they aren't together."

"I don't really give a damn," Cato replied flatly.

"Right," the skepticism dripped from Marvel's voice, a half-smile on his lips. "Want some advice? Try that whole making friends thing. Hotshot new guy's not really her type." With that, he turned on his heel to get into his blue sports car, giving Cato a small wave and leaving the boy to himself .

* * *

"Cato? Cato, are you home?" Irene's voice called, triggered by the sound of the front door swinging open as the teenage boy entered. He threw his bag onto the floor and headed to the kitchen, wondering what the woman could possibly want. She stood behind the kitchen counter, an apron tied around her waist as she pushed her grey hair back from her eyes with the back of her hand. "Oh, good. Listen, I need you to do me a favor."

"Grandma, I have sh-"

"Cato Weston, I know what you're going to say, and I will throw your mattress into the front lawn if you continue," Irene warned, pointing her finger at him. "And you WILL do this. Your grandfather's graveyard hasn't had any flowers in a week, I've been too tired to go. Take these to him." She pushed a vase of lillies across the counter to him, waving at the boy to go. The old woman looked much more frail than usual as she gripped her spatula, but Cato failed to notice as he grumbled, taking the lillies.

"How am I gonna know which one's his?"

"It's the one in front of the largest angel," Irene explained. "Dinner will be ready when you get home."

He rolled his eyes, fishing his keys out of his pocket as he exited the house once more, vase in hand. The cemetery's vast expanse had caught his eye the first time he'd moved into Southampton, a serene green field of tombstones amongst a row of large houses. He pulled into the gated land, immediately spotting a large angel towering the rest of the smaller slabs as he parked on the nearest road. He'd never known William Weston, who passed away not long after Cato had been birthed. Of course, a nonexistent relationship with a family member was very much common to Cato, and it hardly bothered him to visit the grave of a man he'd never spoken a coherent word to.

As he walked to the cemetery, he heard the faintest sounds of a familiar voice talking, and turned his head to where it originated. He saw a familiar black ponytail and a girl sitting in front of a grave, her knees pulled close to her stomach as she appeared to be talking to the granite slab.

"We won, but you probably already knew that," he heard her say. "And dad was there, and so was Stella but I don't think she had a clue about what was going on."

He tried his hardest to keep the noise nonexistent-something about the serenity of the graveyard combined with her foreign, almost innocent and unguarded tone urged him to protect the moment's current state. His attempts were thwarted when his foot managed to find a twig, causing the girl to snap out of her conversational state as she looked to see who approached her. At the sight of Cato holding a vase of lillies, she raised an eyebrow, her guard resuming immediately. "What are you doing here?"

"Uhh... supposed to deliver these," he said, holding up the vase.

"It's that big dark one right in front of St. Michael," Clove replied, nodding at a specific lot. "I've seen your grandmother here a few times."

Cato stole a glance at the grave in front of her. _Tracy Kensington: She did more than exist, she lived. She did more than listen, she understood. Rest peacefully, dear._ He couldn't help but look at the stone, remembering the image of the woman he'd seen in the photograph of Clove's room. "Your mom?" he asked, nodding at the one she was standing next to.

She opened her mouth to deliver a bitter, scathing and sarcastic response, but turned to the grave before she had a chance to speak. Her mother would have wanted a different approach. "Yeah," she said, almost inaudibly. "She passed away last year."

_I know_, Cato thought, realizing he'd known much more about her than he really should have. "Oh. I'm sorry," Cato uttered out. "You were close?"

"You could say that." Clove bit her lip and nodded her head, toying with the hem of her shirt after squatting on the ground to a more comfortable position. "I'm guessing you heard some of our conversation," she laughed hollowly.

"And if I did?"

She shrugged. "Do what you will, as long as it doesn't involve pity."

"Would it kill you if someone sympathized with you?" he questioned, a hint of sarcasm in his tone.

"I find it hard to believe it's sympathy you're going for," she replied. "You've never visited his grave."

Cato shrugged, plopping down beside her without warning, placing the vase on the ground. He half-expected a protest from the girl, but she stayed silent, averting her gaze to her mother's tombstone. "Never really knew him. Not big into family."

"That's unfortunate," Clove commented. "Your grandmother visits him every Monday afternoon. Hasn't been around lately though." She couldn't fathom why she'd started a conversation with Cato. It lacked the usual sparring exchange, almost to the point where they were really, truly talking.

"She's tired, I guess," Cato muttered. "I'm sure she'll surrender soon and ship me back."

Clove raised her eyebrow. "Problem child?"

He laughed. "Just not the one they wanted," he confessed, his fingers fumbling with the blades of grass laying beneath him, yanking a few out. "I'm sure they'd trade me for Cassius in that mugging for anything."

She opened her mouth to say something, but could only stutter out an "Oh."

"They wanted a girl too, but Chloe died when we were born," he continued, almost as if he were talking to only himself-it was a mere soliloquy, and Clove was the audience. That was, until he turned his head and looked at Clove in the eyes. "It's great, isn't it. Wrecking everything you touch."

"Isn't that your intention?" she asked, returning his gaze before looking away.

He shrugged. "Only thing I really know how to do. Like I said, Cass was the golden child."

"You've never tried anything else."

"What makes you think that?" his voice grew the slightest bit louder, but the volume failed to phase Clove. It was almost like Cato had resumed to his usual ways.

"Just a guess," she shrugged. "If you have, it obviously didn't work."

"Maybe I like breaking everything," he responded. "You don't seem to be the one to step out of comfort zones either."

"Maybe I like hating everything," she replied, the slightest tone of a joke in her voice. He, too, surprisingly shared the laugh. "I'll admit. I don't like change."

"I wouldn't either if that was the kind," he said, nodding at the grave in front of them. He turned back to her, observing the way she seemed to be waging a war to keep her emotions at bay. The way she bit her lip nervously had given it away, accompanied by her inability to keep eye contact.

He couldn't understand why he found his hand slipping over hers, and she couldn't understand why she looked at the action and back at him without withdrawing from the contact. What perplexed both of them even more was how natural it felt-the way he leaned in, cupping her cheek and the way she seemed to meet him halfway. The movements progressed to him running a hand through her hair, her wrapping her own arms around his neck, as both of their lips parted willingly.

They had paused their games, if only for a moment, neither thinking of how their impulsive action would do what they both resented-it would change all they had known.

* * *

**A/N: You all probably hate me... But I've just had writer's block the past few weeks and I really, really didn't want to give you a shitty chapter. You all deserve better than that. I really hope none of you gave up on me, because I think I've finally grasped a better sense of where I want to go with this story.**

**So please continue reviewing, even though I really don't deserve it. You've all been so loyal and I can't begin to thank you.**

**Follow me on tumblr,** **compliclato****,**** and say hi to me there too! Because at least I can actually reply to comments there and we can talk and such. **

**To answer some questions from the reviews:**

**BigBirdIsCool - Southampton is this real town in New York, a very affluent area where a lot of the rich and famous buy vacation homes.**

**Melissa - you didn't ask a question, but I just wanted to tell you thank you for the constant support (: And that goes for every other reviewer as well.**

**ObviouslyAnnoyed - thank you SO, so much for that review. I don't know if I've reviewed yours yet, but I really need to, because I'm a HUGE fan of your piece.**

**Thank you guys, so much. I don't know when the next chapter will be up, I'll try for really soon. I'd hate to set a deadline and disappoint you guys because you truly deserve the world.**

**I love you all.**

**Rina**


	15. Chapter 15

A good night's sleep made no difference to Clove Kensington's state of mind. She would look in the mirror and swear she could only see a stranger, one whose lips betrayed her intentions completely. She swore she felt nothing positive for Cato. That her hands didn't find their way around her neck, that he didn't place his hands on her waist and pull her in even further. That she didn't find herself gasping for air after they finally broke apart, looking into his eyes and seeing the same conflict that ravaged her own thoughts. She remembered the deafening silence in the graveyard, the shortest, most civil conversation they had to date.

"I have to go," she said abruptly, getting up from the ground to leave.

"Uh, yeah," he replied. "Me too." No snide remarks, no taunts, nothing, as the both of them separated and walked to their cars in silence.

She'd arrived at Mr. Abernathy's class the next day, almost petrified though her emotionless face begged to differ. She kept her composure as no signs of Cato emerged, relief washing over her for the briefest second. She took her seat and took her belongings out, fiddling with the pen in her hand absentmindedly when she almost felt his presence without looking up. She didn't need to look up-she'd grown accustomed to the way it felt when he walked in a room, commanding attention with his built stature, tensed shoulders and chin raised in confidence. He exuded of an ego that seemed to silence the room unmistakably, and Clove didn't need to look at the doorframe to know that.

In fact, she figured that she wouldn't look up at all. She couldn't fathom an appropriate utterance, anything to break whatever spell that was still in effect from the kiss that they shared.

He took the seat beside her, silent as well, without the usual "Morning, Kensington" that she'd almost grown accustomed to. The omitting of such a simple greeting, to Clove, brought the gravity of the situation to light. He, too, had his own thoughts about the ordeal and perhaps the worst part of the silent treatment was that the window to his thoughts had not even the slightest crack.

For the whole hour they sat in silence, no exchange of words between the two even during times of a class discussion. Cato, despite classroom rules, kept an earphone plugged into one ear for the whole hour, leaned back on his chair as he stared blankly at the front of the classroom. She'd made out the details from the corner of her eye, knowing that engaging in eye contact seemed almost as unappealing as talking to him. Clove, instead, kept her head down, taking notes rapidly on her notebook as Mr. Abernathy discussed Joseph Conrad's style in the Heart of Darkness.

After what felt like a much too long class period, the bell finally rang as Clove left her seat, only to be beaten to the door by Cato who rushed past her. She turned left after walking out of the classroom, Cato a few strides in front of her as the students trickled into the hallway.

Her eyes were fixed on his broad shoulders, her reasoning of it unsure as she watched a familiar blonde latch her arm around his from behind. Glimmer was almost bouncing up and down as she navigated the hallways. It shouldn't have bothered her, and she shouldn't have felt the warmth in her blood rising. As her sister and the quarterback engaged in the smallest intimate lip lock they could manage, Clove almost found herself stopping in her tracks. Feeling jealousy over her sister's boyfriend was, naturally, a completely foreign concept to Clove, and she shook her head to herself in the smallest of movements, as if it would shake the strange feeling away. Another part of her swore that she saw him-a fleeting glimpse-looking directly at her as he engaged in a kiss with her stepsister. She cursed at herself for the developing feelings, knowing that it was a danger to take them so seriously.

* * *

The routine went on for the rest of the week. They hadn't shared a single word to each other, despite the many times that their paths crossed. She'd found a way to avert her gaze somewhere else, and he appeared to look right through her. Because of they didn't talk about it, they never engaged in a kiss. And if that too never occurred, then neither of them would be developing strange, strange feelings.

Cato had taken on a strategy. If he treated her like any other girl, she would turn into just another one of them. If he could convince her of her supposed insignificance, his insatiable desire to know her thoughts would dissipate into thin air.

He put his efforts, instead, into the nearing Friday-the highly anticipated event. The first football game of the entire season was a big deal to Panem Preparatory, and peculiarly, it had become a big deal to Cato. He pushed himself harder, ran his sprints the slightest bit faster, lifted weights heavier. The sweat that trickled down his body almost purged him of all unnecessary thoughts. He needed to win the first-he needed to win them all.

"What's got you on Rambo mode?" Gale asked, spotting the quarterback while he bench pressed.

He mounted the bar back up, stretching himself out for a few moments in between set.

"Don't know what you're talking about," Cato said gruffly, ready to go for another round.

Finnick, on the rowing machine, chuckled. "Someone's not getting any," he announced loudly, earning a few other laughs from surrounding players. "How's that thing going with Kensington? Break her yet?"

"Fuck off, man," he grumbled as he sat on the bench, using a towel to wipe the excess sweat on his face.

Finnick laughed lightheartedly. "Damn, touchy subject, bro."

From the corner of the room, Thresh had shifted, and it seemed as if the rest of the team noticed his hostile presence. "Shouldn't get too attached." The team looked up to see the rare occurrence of Thresh speaking up. "Bitch doesn't have a heart, not that it matters to you."

For an unknown reason, Cato felt a sudden anger course through his veins, bringing him up on his feet to stand right in front of Thresh and in his face. "The fuck are you trying to say here, man?" he asked him scathingly, confrontational intentions heavy in his voice.

Thresh, as well, turned on his hostility, his chest puffing out with his arms crossed. "I'm saying you found the one. The heartless, attention-craving tramp you're looking for."

By no means had Cato ever been okay with controlling his anger. In fact, it often came in heavy surges, and right then the Panem football team had finally seen how much was pent up in the quarterback's heart and mind. He shoved Thresh in the direction of the lockers, making the first contact as he kept in eye level. "Shut your fucking mouth," Cato spat angrily as Thresh prepared to push back.

"The hell are you gonna do, pretty boy?" Thresh challenged, giving him a shove in the chest.

Cato, in his rage at someone testing his limits, went up to Thresh, ready to make physical contact as he shoved him again. As the shoving between the two men's aggression escalated, Gale noticed the sudden potential danger.

"Guys, fucking stop," Gale said firmly. The two failed to listen and as they displayed their aggression.

Cato wound up his fists and connected with Thresh's cheek as an angered Thresh charged at the standing Cato, knocking him down to the ground of the locker room floor. Gale had watched it unfold, trying to separate the two with the help of the football team.

"Get the fuck off him, Thresh," Gale demanded, pulling the player off of the quarterback.

Both had adrenaline seeping through their system and ached for nothing more than to connect a few more punches. They panted, exhausted at the time allotted.

Brutus walked in to see the two wrestling on the floor, men for others being pleased. He blew a high pitched whistle, silencing the crowd as groups of other players held the two back. "You goddamn idiots get your asses into my office."

* * *

By the end of practice, news of the fight had already spread among all of Panem's student athletes. As the building emptied, both Clove and Cato were the last to leave of their team, taking time to pack up. As Clove exited her own locker room, she saw the quarterback coming out of his down the hallway, seething as she briskly walked over to him.

"What the hell was that?" she demanded from behind him, the anger in her own voice prevalent.

He turned around, his expression unreadable. "I don't know what you're talking about," he muttered, before turning back around and continuing to walk as he pulled up the hood on his sweatshirt.

"Bullshit," she growled, speeding up and cutting him off, crossing her fingers in front of him. "You haven't said a fucking word to me and now I hear you're defending me? What is that shit?"

He looked up at her anger and irritation in his eyes. "It's none of your business," he said gruffly.

"None of my business?" she repeated. "You've got to be kidding me."

He couldn't admit the obvious truth-that he'd felt a sense of possession over Clove. He felt a sudden duty to protect her, despite her physical absence at the time. He couldn't. It meant he'd feel something from her, and he had convinced himself that week that it wasn't so. He grabbed her by the arm, looking down at her. "Fine, I felt sorry for you."

The statement took her by surprise and a look of shock and hurt entered her own face. In a matter of seconds, Cato felt a stinging sensation on his left cheek caused by the palm of Clove's hand as she glared at him. "I don't need your pity," she spat, and turned around to leave before the tears could fall out of her eyes.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry guys, this is really short but I hope it has some substance. I just started college so i've been quite busy and for that I apologize. But I love, love, love all of your reviews.**

**BigBirdIsCool - yes, the characters are indeed seniors (:**

**Seriously, thank you ALL of you guys. I read every single one of your reviews and take them to heart, and you make me feel like the luckiest writer in the world so thank you so much.**

**I love you all! **

**- Rina**


	16. Chapter 16

To say that Panem Preparatory was electrically charged for the football game was an understatement. Much of the excitement filled the air, like it had every year, yet there was something more this year. Perhaps it was because of the last season of the defensive legend Thresh St. Martin. It may have been that the crowd was curious just how many yards Gale Hawthorne would be able to battle through. Or, to some girls, the topic of who Finnick Odair would come home with at the after-party offered much excitement.

It would be foolish, however, to pretend that Cato Weston played no part in the town's boosted enthusiasm over football. Ever since word of the fight between Cato and Thresh broke out, the discussions had only grown more frequent and more attention gravitated towards the increasingly popular quarterback. Of course, freshmen on the team kept the Panem Preparatory population updated.

"Coach Brutus staggered offensive and defensive practice times to keep Thresh and Cato from fighting."

"The defensive backs are getting their asses handed to them because Thresh is pissed."

While some statements may have been exaggerations, the tension was far from fictitious. Nobody knew why both seemed to radiate abrasion towards each other, but they knew better than to question either party. The one girl who dared to do so refused to speak to both.

The locker room fell into a respectful silence, despite the stands filling up and the fans starting to get riled up. Coach Brutus held a power over the hunched over men with his piercing gaze, his clipboard tucked under one of his crossed arms. After surveying the men, he finally spoke up.

Quite honestly, though, the starting quarterback did not hear much of what he was saying. In fact, his mind had refused to process much of anything. He knew the plays, he knew the defensive formations of the other team, and he knew all of his receiver routes. He was supposed to feel much more focused than his current state, but it almost seemed too impossible to focus.

His brain had gone into autopilot as he stepped onto the field amidst the loud roars of the crowd and the chanting of the cheerleaders. The lights shone down upon the men, who ran onto the field matching the level of excitement they had been immersed in. Gale eyed Cato as they exited the locker room, giving him a small nod as they too ran to midfield to begin warming up.

Before Cato knew it, the clock had sounded off for the coin toss and Panem had won with their choice of tails. It wasn't long before special teams took the kickoff return to the thirty yard line as the offensive line marched onto the field, Cato trailing them with a confident demeanor.

He had looked around for her while all of it was happening. She was absent from the sidelines, where Mark was talking to their offensive coordinator. He had heard Marvel and Peeta's loud, ridiculous cheers, but she was uncharacteristically not by either of their sides, nor by Katniss and Jacqueline who were rolling their eyes at the two. He knew she cared about the team, there was no denying it. Did he truly push her that far?

His question was unanswered, but his situation was forced to be assessed at a later time as the pass rush approached him and tackled him to the ground.

His first play as the starting quarterback was a sack.

The crowd shushed as he got up from the ground clenching his fists. No matter how pensive he was being, he was still Cato. Losing was not an option—particularly in front of a whole town.

On the next down, he threw to his most reliable option, Gale, who took the ball another fifteen yards for a first down.

The drive was successful—he ended it with a pass to Finnick, who made an acrobatic leap to catch it and landed with both feet in the endzone. The whole crowd cheered, girls whistling for Finnick, as Cato's lips formed a half-smile at the result of the drive while the kicker took it past the uprights to put seven points on the board for Panem Preparatory.

* * *

The clock winded down in the fourth quarter, and the boys had done it. They'd won the first game of their season, and the crowd could not have been happier. With the defense holding the opposing team to zero points and Cato throwing to Gale for another touchdown, they walked away successful and prideful out of the locker room, banging their fists on the metal doors and hollering down the tunnel that led out into the parking lot.

Word of a party had reached Cato, naturally, and he by all means found his attendance to be necessary. He was the last to leave the room, packing his possessions slowly into his duffel bag as he continued contemplating. He hoisted it onto his shoulder as he walked out, slinging a towel around his shoulders as he greeted the rest of the crowd who were waiting to shower him with "Good job" and "Congratulations" comments. There were plenty more to come, and Cato surely relished in the glory.

And then he saw a glimpse of her, standing by one of the cars in the parking lot. He could have sworn that their eyes met for a fleeting moment, but as he looked back at her, her own gaze was focused on Marvel, who was leaned up against his car with the signature grin on his face.

Parting himself from the rest of the crowd, he made the slow approach to the two of them. "Clove," he spoke up when he finally neared them, as she hesitantly looked up to meet his gaze. "Can we talk?"

Marvel looked at her questioningly. "I'll wait for you at the gates," he said, opening his car door, only to be interrupted by Cato.

"I got her, don't worry about it," he said, a commanding tone in his voice as Marvel surrendered, knowing there was no use in arguing with Cato. Marvel got into his car and gave Clove one more reassuring look through his passenger side window before driving off and out of the parking lot.

"Congratulations," she muttered, stuffing her hands into the pocket of her oversized sweatshirt.

"Thanks," he replied, chuckling a little bit at the formality. "Look, Clove," he began, pausing for a bit trying to get his words in order. "I know I said some shitty things, but—"

"Did you?" she scoffed, rolling her eyes as she looked away.

"Listen to me," he said louder, his hands in front of him signaling exasperation as he ran one across his hair. "I'm trying to fucking apologize here, Kensington, and you're not making it easy."

"Oh, I'm sorry for ruining your apology," she spat sarcastically. "How can I make it easier for you, Cato? Would you like me to welcome you back with a nice embrace-"

"You're ridiculous!" he yelled, loud enough to overpower her but not enough to bring attention to them from anyone else who was still in the parking lot. It had, however, dwindled down to the last few cars that were exiting the complex to make their way home. "I don't have to put up with this shit."

"Then leave me alone," she said coldly, her eyes meeting his with an unexplainable anger.

"What?" he asked, taken aback by the short comment.

"Leave me alone," she repeated. "I didn't ask for any of this in the first place, Cato. I knew it was a game to you all along, but can you just fucking quit? I don't need any of this. I was doing fine before you came here and I'd appreciate it if you at least just stop trying to mess with me."

"What if I don't want to?" he asked bluntly, crossing his arms.

"What?" It was her turn to be puzzled.

"What if I don't want to leave you alone?" he repeated. "No. What if I can't? What if you're making it hard on me too because I know that somewhere down there, I am positive, you feel the exact same fucking thing?"

"Cato, what the hell are you talking about?"

"I just—nevermind," he grumbled. "Just get in the car so I can drive you home."

"No," she said firmly. "Not until you tell me what—"she was cut off by his lips suddenly meeting hers once more as he placed his hands on the sides of her face. He parted her own lips with his tongue as he lengthened the kiss, one of his hands making its way to the small of her back.

Clove had forgotten exactly the time and place she was in for the first few seconds, her head spinning around at the sudden contact between the two. She could feel the warmth of Cato through his shirt as she was pressed up against him, lost in a haze of emotions. Before she knew it, he pulled away and she finally had the opportunity to assess the situation.

"Tell me there was nothing there," he said to her, his eyes gazing upon her face looking for not only an answer, but signs of the truthfulness of it as well.

She could not tell him there was nothing—because she couldn't deny herself the truth either. Still, she refused to believe that it was real. That whatever it was, it was substantial and sincere. Though the words could not come out of her mouth, the simple shake of the head was all that she needed to convey as she looked down at her feet. "No," she was saying in every form, except with her mouth.

And though Cato could tell she was lying to even herself, he wasn't going to force it. There was something about not being what she wanted that angered Cato, that upset and disappointed him—both at her, and at himself. Maybe she meant it when she told him to leave her alone.

* * *

**AU:** **Oh... Um... Hey guys (: You're probably upset that you had to wait so long for this update. I know, I would be too. The truth is, college has just been incredibly challenging and though there were probably times that I could have worked on the fic, there were other things I did instead and I'm sorry about that. You're all fiercely loyal readers and even now, I get reviews and requests and that's more than I can ask for. Thank you so much for your support. I have not quit, I'm trying my best (:**

**Much love, Rina.**


	17. GOOD NEWS!

Hi guys! This is an author's note so I'm really sorry if it was misleading but I HAVE GOOD NEWS, I PROMISE!

I'm not done with No Rest for the Wicked yet (: And I know a lot of you are pretty pissed at me and you really have a right to be because I suck and it's been so long. But going to school was really hard and required a lot of late nights in the library. And I'm not going to lie and say that I did nothing else, because yes, I did go out and have the time of my life doing things other than writing.

But that chapter is over and I'm ready because I feel like I have a better grasp on the environment I'm trying to convey now that I've lived it-the pretentiousness of prep school bros and the importance of status basically defines the student body of where I go to school.

I'm not saying the chapter is coming tomorrow, and it's not, because I have a trip out of town. But it is coming. Anonymous on tumblr, it will be in by July 11th (: oh and for those of you who saw, my url has changed from compliclato to enjolrastic.

so I wanted to say thank you to the faithful who are still reviewing. Particularly you, Melissa, you're amazing and thanks so much for the support and encouragement.

Because guys, I'M back!


	18. Chapter 18

A soft melody played by a guitar traveled from a set of speakers across Clove's bedroom, the sunlight barely creeping through her blinds. She sat on her bed, chewing on the end of her pencil as her eyebrows furrowed over graphs on her calculus textbook before she shut her book in frustration.

While her morning workouts usually cleared her mind enough to commence the day, her muddled thoughts found no solace in her running shoes hitting the pavement. And that, the mere fact that her universal remedy proved ineffective, frightened her. Monday morning had come around—three days since her encounter with Cato—and her thoughts continued in their bent and distorted nature, enough that her three day weekend alone with her mind seemed to be the worst solution.

Everywhere she looked, she had found some sort of reminder of his pestering existence—Glimmer's conversations, her father palming a football after coming home from a casual game, the clang of her feet on the stadium steps. Yet strangely, his physical presence had decreased to non-existence. She knew perfectly of the shortness of three days; in fact, she found herself ashamed of even thinking of his short disappearance. How had he come to affect her universe in such a way that he had even created the smallest, yet most disturbing, gap in it from his absence?

She reclined on her headboard, groaning in frustration over the state of her mind. In an act of impulse, she took the phone lying on her bedside table and started to dial the first few numbers of Marvel before stopping to reassess her doings. What would she have to say of the matter to him? She knew what he would say, in his most protective Marvel tone and the slight, though ever-present smirk. Without a conscious intent, she started to erase the number and stood up from her bed, taking her car keys.

"Clove Kensington returning to her old stomping grounds," a voice behind her called as she stood by her father's boat on the marina. She turned around and saw a grinning starting quarterback, though not the one that had been frequenting her thoughts lately. Readjusting her baseball hat to get a better range of vision, she smiled shyly at Luke. "You haven't been around here in a while."

"I didn't know you were going to be here," she said softly, putting her hands in the front pocket of her sweatshirt. Of course she'd remembered that Luke held a job at the marina, but her efforts in forgetting their relationship had assumed that he'd moved onto another part-time job. Unlike many of her friends, Luke was born to a middle-class family. His mother operated a small business in Montauk, while his father fished for a living. The tan that he had developed was not, like Panem Preparatory's men, from tossing around the football by the beach on summer days. He'd been working, whether it was with his father or in his other part time jobs, ever since he could. She had remembered a time when she admired his down-to-earth attitude, his golden boy personality. He chuckled and dismissed every compliment. Luke made every face he met feel like his best friend, and Clove had been so drawn to his warm aura.

"Would it have mattered if you knew?" he countered in a friendly tone, putting his own hands in his pockets as he looked off into the sea. The period of silence after his inquiry indicated a lack of intention for Clove to answer. "How's your dad? The catch around here's been great."

"He's doing well," she replied shortly. "We haven't really had time to go out and fish, with the wedding and…" she found herself trailing off in her excuse, hoping he wouldn't probe her absence much longer.

He took the cue. "Are you going out today?" He asked, looking at the boat and particularly eyeing the tackle box.

"Yeah," she replied, looking down at her shoes. "Do you want to come?" She blurted out, unable to fathom her verbal request. Immediately, unresolved tension set into their conversation, noticeable beyond the civility. "I mean, I can understand if you're still working—then no, don't go. Work."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "No, I actually just got off," he said, hopping on her boat ahead of her and extending a hand to aid the small-framed girl in getting on the boat. Hesitantly, with her mind's warnings going off repeatedly in her head, she took his hand and stepped on the boat not long before he brought the engine to life.

* * *

They had gone well enough offshore to lose the noises of the bustling seaside. The rocking boat and the constant breeze were the only elements grounding the two from being simply in existence with each other in a world of their own.

The conversations had turned in every direction. She would ask about his football practices, he would counter with his intrigue in the improvement of her soccer game. They spoke of the future, of the plans that they both had for themselves. Upon the ease of their conversations of their lives, Clove had realized that the two had come to the strange acceptance that they no longer found their paths headed in the same direction. While her heart would have raced wildly upon the opportunity to sit on a boat with Luke when she had first met him, she instead found herself in a strange sense of peace. And despite the tumultuous ending to her relationship, she no longer felt the bitterness and sadness that had washed over her at the mention of his name a year ago.

Who knew time did actually heal.

They fell into another comfortable silence before Luke cleared his throat, his eyes hinting of urgency. "Look, Clove," he began, and she looked up at him, straightening her posture as she awaited his words. "That night at the Lilly's party, I'm sorry I walked out like that. I mean, I know you were trying to apologize and I just..." he trailed off. She nodded, waiting for him to continue. "It just hit me. When Cato kissed you. That we were actually done, you know."

She smiled sadly. "Yeah, we are, aren't we?" She stared off into the horizion, pulling her knees to her chest.

"I mean, I thought we were those people who just fell back into place no matter what," he continued. "But I realize that I did hurt you and getting back with you wouldn't fix that. Especially not when Cato's around already and you're doing a lot better."

She scoffed, shaking her head in disagreement. "I _am _better, but I can assure you that Weston has nothing to do with it."

Luke shot an amused, skeptical glance at her. "I mean, you're not sunshine and rainbows, but you never have been and I wouldn't expect that from you," he explained. "But I saw you yelling at him that night and it's like he gives you a reason to stand up for yourself again."

She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it once again. Luke wouldn't understand-Cato certainly didn't contribute to the improvement of her state. He drove her completely insane with his challenges that all she wanted to do was prove him wrong, prove that she was better than what he figured her to be. Her thoughts came to a halt at the realization-perhaps he may have provided motivation for Clove's strength. She realized she had left Luke without a response and looked back up at him, but he had already stood up to turn the engine on again and head to shore.

He looked back at her as he steered the boat with a knowing glance and a small smile.

* * *

As they made their way back to shore, Clove's phone buzzed constantly for almost a minute straight, uncharacteristic of any time of day.

"You've got some friends there, Kensington," Luke joked as he raised an eyebrow as he parked in the marina. She rolled her eyes playfully at him before looking at the screen.

8 missed calls from Glimmer Joyce.

Before she could process the strangeness of the circumstances, her phone was ringing once again. She stared blankly at it before pressing on the green button on the screen. "Hello?"

"Clove, you need to come to the hospital," the panic in Glimmer's voice was the first thing that alarmed Clove.

"What?" she asked, as if the command had even the slightest lack in clarity.

"Just please," the girl at the end of the line pleaded. "I don't know what to do about Cato and I just figured that I'd call you and-"

Clove hung up the phone before getting off the boat hurriedly. "I have to go," she told Luke in the midst of her swift movements. Before starting on a sprint, she looked back at him with a prominent sense of honesty. "Thank you."

* * *

**A/N: This chapter's on the short end obviously, but I needed a lead-in to the rest of the events I have planned. And I really wanted to explore Luke. The thing is, no matter what Clove's friends say about him, Clove would have never gotten in a relationship if it weren't with an inherently good guy despite his bad choices.**

**Thank you so much, again, to everyone who has taken the time to review over the hiatus and for your constant support. Again, I really apologize for the wait. You all deserve better. I'm not going to promote this on tumblr any longer because I don't want to focus on getting dozens of readers, I want to focus on you all who have embarked on this journey with me so far. I do, however, welcome old and new readers. I changed my URL on tumblr to "enjolrastic", so feel free to talk to me if you ever have any thoughts you would like a response to. I'm terrible at responding to reviews on FF.**

**Much love,**

**Rina**


	19. Chapter 19

Clove had never taken a particular liking to hospitals, though she had not done a great job of avoiding them in the span of her lifetime. As her sneakers step on the linoleum floor, she looked down the hallway and almost swears she can see her father down the hallway, his head cradled in his hands. She looked away and back, knowing it is but a projection of the last time she was there.

She remembered the beds from her injuries, the constant motion of everyone in the hallway. The light colors, the well-lit hallways, the spotless floors—nothing could counter the moroseness that crept into her chest from knowing all too well the worst that could happen in such a place.

Glimmer sat on a chair by the reception, not in her usual beautiful yet unapproachable air. Instead, she bit her fingernails—a habit that Clove knew she had long grown out of already until then—as she curls up, and as if the moon's tidal patterns had caused a sudden shift in her personality, Glimmer Joyce looked terribly vulnerable.

A sick feeling rose up Clove's throat. She did not hate Glimmer, and she never could have hated Glimmer. Clove hated the things Glimmer did to protect herself, ensuring that she was always superior, and that all the attention remained on her. But Clove did not hate Glimmer, who grew up in a household of divorce and custody battles as an only child. She did not hate Glimmer, who had such an attraction to all things beautiful. She admitted, she could not bring herself to hate her after knowing there was much more to Glimmer than the one-dimensional front she displayed.

She approached her stepsister, and by the time she neared her, Glimmer had already looked up. "Glim?" Clove asked, uncomfortably. "Do you want to tell me what happened?"

Glimmer's desperate gaze met hers. "I don't know what to do, Clove," she said, the painful honesty showing through from the crack in her voice. "I've never seen him like this, and I don't know what to do."

"Who, Cato?" Clove asked, pressing on. "Glimmer, what's wrong? I can't help if I don't know anything."

The blonde girl continued. "He got a call when we were at lunch," she explained, looking at a vase across the room. "It was an emergency, and when we got here, his grandmother—" she stopped, unable to finish what Clove understood the implications of.

She comprehended the gravity of the situation, more so than perhaps anyone else could. It may have been terrible if something had happened to Cato himself—but she could not help but think that it was worse that something happened to someone Cato actually loved. Cato, who truly believed that he broke everything that he touched—if his past so far had not confirmed such a truth, then this even surely would.

"He won't talk to anyone," Glimmer said, almost inaudibly. "But I think he'll talk to you." Clove raised her eyebrow at her sister, realizing it to be unnatural that she would attribute better compatibility between her and Cato. "I think you understand him." Clove remained silent at her opinion—she could not decide whether she found truth in it or an entire misconception. Perhaps she displayed many of Cato's characteristics, but she certainly never thought they were on a level of understand. "He's in the intensive care waiting room."

She looks at her stepsister hesitantly, and Glimmer nods back at her as Clove walks in the direction of the waiting room. It's strange—she remembers the exact hallways she took to find her mother, and her heartbeat grows at the thought. It is not her mother this time, but the same fear and anxiety comes crashing down on her the nearer she gets to the destination.

The room was empty, aside from him, and she peered through the glass window—praying that for a few seconds, he does not see her. He stares blankly at the coffee table, his fists clenched. And though he looked like a complete iron statue, she knew of the storm brewing inside of him. She took a step inside and knocked on the door, but he did not move, nor do anything else to acknowledge her. Still, she did not think walking away is the appropriate choice of action, and she sat down on a chair across from him.

"I wasn't there," he said quietly, as if still thinking aloud to himself. At first, she does not understand whether or not to respond, until he looked directly at her. "She just took another one of those phone calls from my dad before it happened, and I left because I didn't want to talk to him."

"Cato, it's not your-," she began to say, before getting cut off.

"Not my fault?" he interrupts, a cold bitterness in his words. "It's not my fault that I wasn't there when she passed out just because I couldn't stand to talk to my own father? That she had to wait for the housekeeper because I had better things to do?"

Clove could feel a distinct clenching in her chest as she observed him from across the room, and for a long moment, she was rendered speechless. She thought of everyone's reassurances when she had been in the same place, and could not find anything possibly comforting about it.

He continued. "The doctors, they said she'll live," he announced to Clove, looking down at his feet. "But I was almost hoping she didn't." Clove looked at him in confusion. "I wouldn't have to see her every day and she wouldn't have to see me. Wouldn't have to know how shitty of a grandson she was blessed with. But she probably knew that from day one anyway." He lets out a humorless laugh.

"Stop that," Clove replies, in her best demanding tone.

"What?" he asks, as if he couldn't hear her clear order the first time.

"Stop pretending like you don't have the potential to be any better than you are," Clove clarified, strength behind her voice. "You weren't there, Cato, and you're right, maybe you should have been. Maybe you should've patched up whatever the fuck is going on between you and your father so shit like this doesn't have to happen, but it just keeps happening. You make mistakes and then you live with ignoring the fact that someone can forgive you."

"Forgive?" he spat back. "You don't understand—actually, forget it. Not everyone has fathers like you do, Clove. We don't all have these people to fall back on when we fuck up, who are so sickeningly accepting and forgiving and willing to overlook the fact that people like me are bound to do the same shit all over again."

Clove stood up, shaking her head. She knew she couldn't get through to him—not like this. "You do have all those people," she said quietly, correcting him before she left the room.

**A/N: Again, this is pretty short, I'm sorry. But trust me when I say there are many more developments on your way!**

**Thank you so much to everyone who's been reviewing, I'm blown away by how constant your support has been even until now.**

**Find me on tumblr (enjolrastic) and talk to me, I'd like to hear your opinions or answer any questions! Or review if you'd prefer to do that.**

**Much love, Rina.**


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